Love and Betrayal
by Rosemary-NZ
Summary: **REWORKING THIS STORY** But the chapters aren't updated yet.Loyalist Margaret Putman and James Wilkins make the perfect match. However, things do not always turn out as planned, things go awry for James and Margeret. Col. Tavington billets in Margaret's manor, they have a whirlwind romance. Though when her nephew Thomas is killed, Tavi's brutality cuts too close to home.
1. Chapter 1

Love and Betrayal - Chapter One

_A/N – disclaimer – I do not own the Patriot – movie or book by Stephen Molstad._

_I love stories where Tavington billets in the homes of Carolina residents, so I decided to write my own._

Short Synopsis:

Set in 1776 – 1781:

Margaret Putman is the younger sister of Charlotte Selton and Elizabeth Martin. Margaret has Loyalist sentiments, and is being courted by James Wilkins, a wealthy Tory and Assemblyman, who she feels will make an excellent match for her. However, things do not always turn out the way you plan them, things go awry for Wilkins and Putman.

Colonel Tavington helps to break the six week siege of Charles Town by taking Moncks Corner. Once the British are in Charles Town, Colonel Tavington billets in Margaret Putman's residence, sweeping Margaret off her feet. They have a whirlwind romance, but as Tavington and the Green Dragoons start their brutal campaign out in the back country, things get a little too close to home for Margaret.

_**Adult content later**_

_This story is a romance, exploring loyalties, love and betrayal. It is not a short story, but I hope you will give it a go!_

_It unfolds along with the movie and the book, but due to the movies inaccuracies, I have tried to do as much research into actual events of the era. Please – if you have any input at all – even regarding historical inaccuracies, let me know! I won't promise to change the story – I could be too far ahead to change things, but there is no harm in setting me straight._

_All reviews are welcome. Tavington will not enter the story for some time – so be warned! I know, I know… I love Tavington too…_

**Love and Betrayal:**

Spring - March 1776 – Charles Town.

**Chapter One – the visit to Tradd Street**

Charlotte clicked her gate closed behind her and walked the short distance to her younger sister's house, three doors from her own on Tradd Street. It was a lovely summers day in Charles Town, for which Charlotte was grateful. Though Benjamin had not sent word, Charlotte knew he would be making his slow way from Fresh Water Plantation with the children, in order to attend the Assembly meeting being held the very next day. The lovely weather would make the day long journey much easier to bear.

Charlotte enjoyed the journey herself; she and Margaret visited the Martins as often as they could – Charlotte more than Margaret seeing that her plantation was not far from her brother in laws, out on the Santee. It was quite a scenic journey, rolling hills and colorful fields. It was very pleasant diversion, in the summer.

Jonah, the Putman families butler - now Margaret's butler, led Charlotte into the parlor. Charlotte looked about her with a smile, this house held fond memories for her, memories of her childhood, memories of being courted by John Selton, the man she would eventually marry. Widowed now, Charlotte had nothing but happy memories of her loving husband and their wonderful marriage. Her only regret was they never had children.

Charlotte chose a seat opposite Margaret, and before long Maisy came in with some tea and biscuits. For perhaps the hundredth time, Charlotte marveled at just how much Margaret resembled Elizabeth, their older sister, who passed away almost two years before. All three sisters took after their mother, tall, fine, slim figured, long golden hair, blue eyes. Charlotte admired how ladylike and dignified Margaret had become. She moved with grace, spoke quietly, sat tall and straight, no longer slouching the way she did when growing up. Gone was the skinny little girl with scrapes and bruises, she should never have been allowed to climb trees! Their parents had been far too indulgent on their last born daughter, their unexpected late life miracle.

"Benjamin would have heard by now that the Assembly is convening, he is bound to be on his way, I would imagine he and the children will arrive tonight. Would you come and dine with us, Margaret?" Charlotte in her quiet,dignified way.

"Of course, I long to see the children again, it has been such a long time." Margaret replied, in the same dignified manner. Their mother had raised her daughters well.

Margaret, at nineteen years, was the youngest of the siblings, and had not yet married. She lived alone in the family home with her maid and other servants, made possible by having her sister living a few houses down, though Charlotte had been talking about asking their Aunt Prudence to come and live with Margaret, at least until Margaret was settled with a husband.

Both of the Putman's remaining daughters had been well provided for, Charlotte had made a good match with her Mr. Selton, she had a plantation all her own which provided the bulk of her income. Margaret had only her inheritance to sustain her, but it was quite considerable. She lived fairly modestly, and invested wisely, and did nothing to accede her yearly income. Charlotte had not begrudged her receiving the family home from their parents.

"Wonderful. I am concerned about the meeting tomorrow, Margie. Colonel Burwell will be here soon - "

"Oh, he is already here, Charlotte! I saw him when Mr. Wilkins and I were strolling through the Square. He is quite handsome, but of course I did not tell Mr. Wilkins that I thought so.

"James would have kept walking right on by the Colonel, if he had had his way! But yes, you are quite correct, Colonel Burwell will address the Assembly, and ask them to join Charles Town to the other colonies - and go to war. What do you think Benjamin will do? The Colonel was indicating he was expecting Ben's support, but I do not think Ben wants to go to war..."

"No, he does not, Burwell is in for an unpleasant surprise tomorrow. Still, I think there are enough Patriots amongst the Assembly who will vote in favor, and support Burwell."

"Then it's inevitable, it will be war..." Margaret said sadly.

"Well, let's not worry about that now. Ben will be here, and we'll enjoy this evening with our family. Dinner will be at six." Charlotte rose, "I am so looking forward to seeing him again. To seeing _them_ again, _all_ of them..!" Charlotte blushed at her slip, suddenly flustered.

"I am sure Ben is looking forward to seeing you again, too, sister," Margaret teased.

Charlotte smiled as they embraced, Margaret knew well of Charlotte's feeling for Benjamin.

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Margaret walked to Charlotte's house and was enjoying a nice cup of tea in the parlor, when Charlotte's butler, Matthew came in to announce that the children had arrived. As Margaret rose with Charlotte, she saw the sudden flush in her sister's cheeks. Charlotte rushed over to the mirror, checking her face for lines and wrinkles.

"Stop fussing Charlotte! You are beautiful; there is not a wrinkle to be seen."

"Are you sure? Look!" Charlotte pointed at some very fine lines around her eyes, pressing her face closer to the mirror to see them better.

"I'm sure! Come on, they are coming up the stairs already."

Charlotte gathered her dignity around her like a cloak, and led the way out of the parlor, though Margaret could see her sister's excitement. The children came running in, throwing themselves into their Aunties arms, and Margaret looked up to see Charlotte trip slightly. Benjamin reached out a steadying hand and they shared a 'look'. Margaret hid a smile at their expense.

It was a lively reunion, kisses and hugs all round. Margaret hugged Little Margaret and Susan tight, then wrestled with Nathan and William. Benjamin was laughing, and Charlotte admonished her sister with a sigh.

_She's backsliding_... Charlotte thought, though she was smiling too._ The children are a bad influence on her._

"You are a lady, now, Margaret; you must try to act like one."

Margaret stuck her tongue out at her sister, as Gabriel and Thomas came into the room. Many more hugs and kisses later, and the family were seated at the dining table enjoying each other's company with fine food.

Margaret could not help be a little reserved around Benjamin, though she did try hard not to show it. She remembered well when Benjamin and Elizabeth would visit Charles Town after moving out to Fresh Water Plantation. He was always so loud and lively, and Margaret had been so young that he frightened her more often than not. And when she was sixteen years old, shortly before her death, her oldest sister Elizabeth confided in Margaret some of the terrible things Benjamin had done during the French and Indian War, causing Margaret to be very uncomfortable around Benjamin.

After dinner, Margaret decided to accompany her nephew, Gabriel out into the square. It was a warm, bright night and it was lively. So many people! So many differing opinions, the men were shouting and laughing and making crude jokes about the King and Lord Cornwallis. Margaret quickly escaped them, the jokes where not to her taste.

She linked her arm through her nephew's, both for the company and the additional security – she did not feel like being a woman alone on the street tonight. Gabriel, who, being only a year younger than Margaret, was more like a brother to her than a nephew. He was just as amazed at the goings on as she was. She lived here, but it may as well have been a completely different world right now.

There were a lot of people making speeches, some for independence and some against. Gabriel led her towards a man who was speaking out against the King and the heavy taxes. The man only had one leg, having lost his other one in the Kings name. He was telling the crowd the taxes were so high, the King may as well be cutting off his other leg!

"That's Mr. Howard!" Gabriel explained. "He lives not far from us, in the village – in Pembroke." Gabriel smiled as he listened to Mr. Howard's speech.

"It seems you have an admirer, Gabriel, that young woman over there is staring at you." Margaret teased her nephew. Gabriel turned in the direction Margaret had indicated. He stood still with shock for a moment, breathing heavily, then he smiled a slow smile.

"I'll come back soon." He promised, as he unwound his arm from hers. She watched her nephew approach the young lady – obviously an acquaintance. Margaret left him to it, standing close by so she could leave with him when he was ready.

"Evening, Miss Putman," a voice said behind her.

"Mr. Wilkins!" Margaret greeted Mr. James Wilkins, trying not to blush. He had recently started paying court to her, and while she thought he was very fine – and a man of wealth as well, he was much older than her. She knew he had been in love with her sister, Elizabeth, before she married Benjamin Martin. Margaret felt uncomfortable; she did not want to live in her sister's shadow. He was quite handsome though, and taller than she, which was a rare thing.

"A lively night, isn't it?" He asked her, he was smiling quite warmly at her, and Margaret felt her face flush.

"Lively…" She agreed. "I had to get away from those… Gentlemen… Over there – they were yelling the crudest things about the King and Cornwallis. I am not sure my ears have recovered yet!" She laughed.

"Perhaps you should not be here alone, I could accompany, if you wish?" Wilkins offered.

"Thank you, you are very kind. I do have an escort, however…" Margaret indicated her nephew, still chatting with the pretty young lady. He was looking decidedly uncomfortable and the girl was laughing at him. "My nephew, Gabriel. My brother, Benjamin Martin is here, he arrived this evening."

Wilkins nodded, his face darkening. Margaret knew Wilkins had never recovered from the disappointment of Elizabeth choosing Benjamin, and Wilkins had struggled with the man all these years. He had developed a grudging respect for him, but they were always on opposite sides in the Assembly, as was the case for most Tories and Patriots.

"What in the world…" Margaret and Mr. Wilkins turned as one toward the sound of many boots striking the paved section of the road.

"They are Colonel Burwell's men," Wilkins explained, derisively. "Come recruiting for the Continental Army."

There were at least 120 men, all in marching in formation, looking very fine in their Bluecoats. There were cheering from the Whigs around them, and snorts of disdain from the Tories – Wilkins included. Margaret found it quite exciting; she could feel the sound of their marching move through her, like loud drums being played fast.

"Do your duty!" They were shouting, and Margaret noticed Gabriel watching them thoughtfully.

Margaret put her hand to her throat, unsure how she was feeling. She was a Loyalist herself, much like Wilkins, but the sight of all these Continental soldiers was really rather impressive.

Wilkins took her hand in his, giving it a pat. Margaret's eyes opened at the unexpected familiar gesture, but she did not remove her hand. They turned away from the spectacle before them, Wilkins walking with Margaret slowly through the square.

"Could I could ask your advice, Mr. Wilkins?"Margaret asked. "I am a little worried that if we go to war, and lose… I've heard that all our assets could be seized… I was trying to think of ways to protect my income, if we do go to war. If the King wins then everything will be fine, but if not... What do you think of the idea of investing in property in England? I do not think I could continue to live here; Loyalist's will not be welcome. Wouldn't it provide extra security?"

"It would indeed," Mr. Wilkins said thoughtfully. "I will look into it for you, if you desire. You could send a sizeable amount; invest it, keeping it safe. Perhaps buy a manor and rent it to someone of wealth – that would give you revenue as well… A very good idea indeed – I think I might consider doing the same."

He gave her an appraising look, like he was seeing her for the first time. If anything, he seemed even more fond, as though the idea of having an intelligent wife appealed to him as much as having a young and beautiful one.

And Margaret was obviously both, and from a distinguished family as well. Margaret flushed under his gaze all over again.

_I do not return his feelings, not truly. But it would be a good match. I am fond of him, and love could grow. He is a good man, after all._

"Will you sit with me at the Assembly meeting tomorrow?" Wilkins asked spontaneously. Margaret's eyes widened, with surprise and apprehension. To sit with Wilkins would make her political views known, and she liked to be more circumspect. And people where already talking about her and Wilkins, putting their names together as though they were a natural couple. Margaret was not sure if she was ready for this.

She took a deep breath and despite her reservations, she smiled and accepted. "Yes, Mr. Wilkins, I would like that very much."

He beamed brightly with pleasure, and offered her his arm as he escorted her back over to her nephew.

Wilkins left her there, and Gabriel introduced Margaret to the young lady, Miss Anne Howard.

"Oh, that is your father, giving the speech!" Margaret said, recognizing the family name. "He seems very passionate."

"He certainly is," Anne replied, clearly proud of her father.

They spoke of this and that, and Margaret found she quite liked the young lady. Especially when she started telling Margaret the story of when she was only eleven years old and Gabriel put ink her tea, causing her teeth to turn blue for a whole month. Gabrel shuffled his feet and looked down uncomfortably. Margaret found she enjoyed Anne's easy manner and sense of humour. When they bid her a good night, Margaret turned to Gabriel.

"So...?" She asked with a knowing smile.

"Yes?" Gabriel asked, not meeting his Aunt's gaze.

"She's pretty."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Yes, you had," Margaret replied with a laugh. "And unless I miss my guess, she is quite in love with you!"

Gabriel did not answer, his pleased smile said it all.


	2. Chapter 2

Love and Betrayal – Chapter Two – Mr. Wilkins

The following morning the Assembly convened. Margaret parted ways from Charlotte and Benjamin when she saw Mr. Wilkins, already seated. He stood when she approached and kissed her hand. Margaret sat watching the other members filing in, as well as the onlookers. Mr. Simms came and sat with her and Wilkins and Margaret wondered where his son, Alexander was, but she could not ask Mr. Simms in front of Wilkins. It would not be seemly, seeing that both men were paying court to her.

The large room was noisy with everyone speaking at once, but finally the din quieted and the meeting began.

Margaret was on the edge of her seat, as the men started shouting and arguing with one another. Wilkins patted her hand reassuringly, though he was one of the men shouting his opinion loudly across the room. Benjamin, Margaret saw, was quiet throughout the proceedings. He and Charlotte both shared a look of concern.

The Speaker had to continually shout for order; such were the passions of the Assemblymen. They would quiet for a little while as one man spoke, but as soon as the speech was finished the men would start shouting again.

Finally Colonel Burwell took the floor.

_He really is a handsome man, _Margaret thought, he stood tall and looked very fine in his Continental uniform. _I think I'm starting to become quite fond of soldiers!_ _I wonder if the Redcoats look as fine!_

She had been having thoughts lately, passionate thoughts that she could not seem to control. She did not tell anyone of them, not even Charlotte, or her closest friends – Claire and Mary. It seemed that at the oddest times, like now, she would drift away into a waking dream, the sort of dream that would set her heart to racing.

Right now, looking at Colonel Burwell, Margaret started to imagine having his arms around her as he kissed her gently. She did not even know the man, and he was a Patriot! They would not get along well.

But she let the dream take hold of her, kept her face composed as Colonel Burwell laid her back onto her bed, kissing her as he reached inside her bodice. She sighed when he told her how beautiful she was, and did not protest when he reached down to pull her skirts up. He pulled down her stockings and his searched with his fingers until he found her centre. It felt wondrous; Margaret had to keep herself from sighing out loud. He stopped kissing her as he moved down her chest, catching one nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue. He continued lower, kissing her stomach through her bodice, lower until he was positioned between her thighs, leaning in close -

Colonel Burwell started to speak, snapping Margaret out of her reverie and back into the Assembly Hall. She looked around hastily, embarrassed, and wondering if anyone could tell her thoughts.

_I am holding Wilkins hand for crying out loud! What is the matter with me!_

Burwell spoke quietly and effectively, everyone was silenced and leaning forward to hear him. He spoke of Independence, and asked that South Carolina be the ninth colony to levy financial support towards the Continental Army.

There was more arguing amongst the men, and when Colonel Burwell spoke of the independence of one nation, Mr. Wilkins cleared his throat at Margaret's side and asked, "And what nation is that?"

It was Mr. Howard who answered, "An American nation!"

Mr. Wilkins held himself straight and tall, but Margaret could feel his tension as he stated, "There is no such nation, and to speak of one is treason!"

"We are citizens of an American nation!" Mr. Howard replied.

"We are Englishmen!" Wilkins shouted, and the Tories in the room agreed loudly, including Mr. Simms. They were shouting so loudly, Margaret could feel it reverberate through her body.

The men argued some more, Mr. Howard shouting about the King being a tyrant, until Benjamin quietly asked "Would you tell me, please, Mister Howard, why should I trade one tyrant three thousand miles away, for three thousand tyrants one mile away?"

The room was silenced by the question. Even Benjamin's children were looking at each other with confusion.

Colonel Burwell, who had served with Benjamin before and had been expecting his support, was not pleased by Benjamin's comments. Benjamin went on to explain that of course he was angry about the rise in taxation, and that he believed the colonies could govern themselves quite well. But he made it clear that he was not willing to go to war with England for the privilege. After seeing war before, in his youth, he felt there must be a better way.

His fellow Patriots were stunned by his words, and clearly displeased. Margaret saw Charlotte gently take hold of Benjamin's hand, quietly giving him her support.

Finally, after more arguing and a few pointed, personal attacks toward Benjamin, he said "I have seven children. My wife is dead. Who is to care for them if I go to war?"

Margaret saw Gabriel and Thomas flinch at the words; they hung their head with shame at what they perceived as weakness in their father. Margaret felt admiration for Benjamin, for being brave enough to say those words out loud. He continued speaking and his words painted a very bleak picture of what the war would be like, they would be living it, it would be on the streets, in front of their homes, the children would see the dead, perhaps even be killed themselves.

For the first time in her life, Margaret was glad she was not married with children of her own to protect.

The Assembly meeting finally came to an end, and the result of the vote, to levy financial assistance in support of a Continental Army to fight for Independence, was shouted out across the square. Margaret was standing with Wilkins when it was declared.

"Twenty-eight to twelve, the levy passed."

Margaret was swept away with Wilkins and Mr. Simms, Wilkins holding her hand as he marched quickly from the Assembly Hall with anger and disgust.

Margaret was on the verge of tears, all those shouting and arguing men, and now Wilkins being in such a rage, it was too much for her. She was a strong woman, usually, but the events of the morning affected her deeply. She was not happy with the outcome of the vote, either. It frightened her half to death, they were going to war! What if Benjamin was right, would there be fighting along these very streets?

Wilkins saw her distress, and was instantly contrite. He slowed his pace, and loosened his grip on her hand as he escorted her home.

He walked around the parlor of Margaret's manor house, nine long strides from one wall, nine long strides back again.

"Mr. Wilkins…" Margaret said with exasperation. "Do sit down. You will ware holes in the rugs." She smiled up at him, and he blew out a vexed sigh and came to sit beside her on the chaise. He threw himself down, and Margaret reached up to run her fingers through his hair comfortingly.

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James looked at Margaret with surprise, when she reached up to run her fingers through his hair. She was smiling at him comfortingly.

_Lord she is so beautiful._

She took his breath away. She looked so much like Elizabeth, whom he had lost to Benjamin. She favored Elizabeth even more than Charlotte did! And they were alike in temperament and intellect, though while Margaret was fiery, seemed more insecure, slightly more shy than Elizabeth was. James found that appealing.

He reached over and took her other hand in his, not wanting her to interrupt her gentle caress of his hair.

"You are so beautiful, Margie," James said quietly, saying her pet name for the first time. She looked down with a shy, endearing smile. James smiled back, gently tipping her chin back up to meet his gaze. Her smile faltered, she seemed suddenly unsure, but James felt it was now or never. He leaned forward and was pleased when she did not pull away.

He gently brushed his lips against hers, and was encouraged when she closed her eyes and sighed. He wrapped his arms around her and she seemed to melt against him. James pressed a little more firmly, deepening the kiss slowly. She still made no protest, and he felt like he would drown when her hand reached up to stroke his cheek.

It had been such a disappointment, the result of the Assembly vote, he had been so angry. And disgusted at his fellow countrymen as they celebrated in the streets and the Square. He could still hear them from here, Margaret's house was not far – indeed it over looked the Square itself. James pulled back from Margaret for a moment to listen, he could hear them running up and down past the house, yelling and laughing! It was horrid.

"Don't listen to them…" Margaret breathed. James turned his attention back to Margaret, and he was rewarded with a sigh as his lips met hers again.

James held Margaret tightly, teasing her mouth open with his tongue. He was breathing heavily when he touched his tongue to hers, and she gave a little whimper of pleasure at the contact. He felt it too, his pleasure surging through his body at the feel of her tongue gently caressing his. He pulled back to kiss her lips again, but it was not long until he was again touching his tongue to hers. His member hardened painfully, a very enjoyable ache in his breeches.

It was no secret that Margaret had several courtiers, Alexander Simms and James Wilkins being the most ardent in their suit for her. She was young, only nineteen, beautiful, from a distinguished family, intelligent... They attended the same church, and James had had his eye on her for a long time now.

_I wonder if she ever kisses Alexander like this._

The thought set something off inside him. He had lost her sister to Martin, and he knew Charlotte was in love with Martin too. And now he could lose Margaret to Alexander. Mr. Simms had confided to James that his son was thinking about proposing to Margaret soon. Fate had a horrible way of turning events against him; he was wealthy but terribly unhappy, especially now that the vote had –

He felt like growling, as he lowered Margaret back against the chaise. She did not protest, even as he lay over her, covering her body with his own. Her arms came about his neck, and she was running her fingers gently along his neck and through his hair, breathing heavily against his mouth.

_She is choosing me... _He thought to himself with sudden realisation, he started planning on the best way to go about proposing to her.

"Margie…" He breathed again, moving his hand from her hair down over her bodice. He continued to kiss her, mouth pressed firmly to hers as his hand moved over her breasts through her bodice. It was too much, all of a sudden he had such a need – he started pulling at her bodice, then he reached his hand inside, under her thin blouse, to gently squeeze her breast. Though it felt wonderful, it was not enough.

He did not notice her hands had stopped their lazy caress of his neck and hair, did not notice they were now pushing at his shoulders. Her face was moving away from his, she was trying to say something but he kept up his persistent kissing.

James reached down to her skirts, struggling to pull them up. Her legs were moving under him, her whole body writhing. When he reached up under her skirts, he started rubbing her between her legs through her stockings

_Does Alexander ever do this?_

He moaned heavily at the thought. He could feel her centre, warm against the palm of his hand.

"James _PLEASE_!" Margaret's voice came as if from a long way away, and it was full of distress. "Please, stop! _James_..!"

James lurched off of her, staring at her with horror. She sat up quickly, pulling away from him, weeping as she pushed her skirts back down and pulled her bodice back up.

"Margie," he breathed, disgusted at himself. "Oh, Margie – I am so sorry. I never meant… I would never hurt you… Margie?"

She rose with shaking hands, to stand on the other side of the parlor.

"I think you should leave, Mr. Wilkins." She said, he could see she was trying to regain her composure. Her tear stained face broke his heart, he felt so horrid.

_I am a wretch! A beast!_ He stood up slowly, holding his hands out before him unthreateningly.

"Please, Margie… I am truly so sorry. I – "

She looked up at him with frosty silence, and held her ground as he stepped slowly towards her.

_Such a strong woman, what have I done? _He thought. James lowered himself to one knee before her, and took one of her hands in his.

"I hope you will forgive me, Margie. I hope you will not think unkindly of me. I will leave, and if you do not wish to see me again I will understand. I am your servant."

She took a deep breath and nodded.

With that he rose, and quietly left the room, full of regret over what he may have just lost.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I do not own the Patriot…**

_Another chapter of back story and character development, but I've put some steamy bits at the end and Tavington will be in the next Chapter, so I hope you will bear with me! This is not going to be a short story; I think you've probably noticed that by now. If it gets boring, with all the details and all – you must let me know! Though I will probably continue on as I have been, I'm not sure why but I feel compelled to write it as accurately and as in-depth as I can… Any input is welcome - reviews welcome! _

_Also – Thank you to "The Tory" – the information you gave me has really helped, I hope you stick with reading this story! Please do continue reviewing and giving me any information you see fit to give! Let me know if you think Margaret's reason for being a Loyalist ring true…_

**Chapter Three: Life goes on.**

1776 – 1780:

Time was passing in a blur for Margaret.

Margaret knew Charlotte had been intending to write to their Aunt Prudence to invite her to come and live with Margaret on Tradd Street. Shortly after the incident with Wilkins, Margaret asked her sister if she had written the letter, Margaret intended on writing the letter herself if Charlotte had not.

She did not tell Charlotte what had passed between her and Wilkins, but Margaret suddenly realized just how important it was to have another lady in the manor, she could not rely solely on Charlotte living close by.

Aunt Prudence arrived within a few weeks, happy to spend some time with her nieces. She was a wealthy woman, a spinster, and although she had an established social life of her own in Newport, Rhode Island, she found she missed her nieces a great deal.

On the third anniversary of Elizabeth's death, Charlotte, Aunt Prudence and Margaret made the long trip out to Fresh Water Plantation to visit with Benjamin and the children and to visit Elizabeth's grave. They spent a whole month with Benjamin, and another few weeks at Charlotte's plantation, before returning to Charles Town.

Gabriel was not at Fresh Water; he had enlisted to the Continentals and was serving under Colonel Burwell's command.

Life goes on, even with an impending war, and in 1777, before Margaret's twenty first birthday she and Alexander Simms announced their engagement. She had grown quite fond of him and his family – she became very close to his parents and knew they were looking forward to welcoming her as their daughter.

Margaret encountered Wilkins often, at dinner parties and other social occasions. He had wished her every happiness but she could see his regret and remorse in his eyes each time she saw him.

Alexander was a good match, not quite as suited to her as she thought James would have been but still from a distinguished, wealthy family. He was a good man, and she he never felt unsafe with him. Though she had never felt unsafe with Wilkins, either, until that fateful day in the parlor.

They decided to have a long engagement. It was Margaret's decision; she was reluctant to bring children into the world when there was war and strife on the horizon. The Continentals presence in Charles Town and Moncks Corner were a constant reminder of what was to come.

The blue of the Continental's Uniform was a common sight in the streets of Charles town. They had secured Moncks Corner, which was a natural gateway from Charles Town to the backcountry. There were easily 5,000 troops in Charles Town, alone.

Alexander had spoken often of joining the Loyalist Militia, if one formed to oppose the Continentals. But for now, with the Patriot presence so strong in Charles Town, most Loyalists where keeping a low profile so as to not draw unwanted attention. Already some of the more vocal Loyalists had been met with violence, and Margaret had heard that a woman she was acquainted with had been raped.

In 1778, before Margaret's twenty second birthday, a few short weeks before she was due to wed, disaster struck. Alexander grew very ill, and though his family called on many doctors to diagnose him, no one could help. He succumbed to the illness, passing away one night - in the dark hours before morning.

Margaret was bereft, she had grown to love Alexander dearly and his passing was a great blow to her. She kept to her house more often than not, and Charlotte and Aunt Prudence despaired for her. The only time she could be roused from her house was to go and visit with Mrs. Simms. They would spend many hours walking the square, or sitting in the parlor in silence, both grieving their loss.

Eventually, a year after Alexander's death, her friends and family started to encourage Margaret to accept the suit of a few young gentleman callers. People were encouraged to wed quickly in the colonies, especially young women like Margaret. Margaret tried not to heed them, but eventually, shortly before her twenty third birthday, she started letting Mr. Wilkins court her again. She knew he regretted his actions, and though he was mindful of her grief, he was very eager and attentive – grateful at being given a second chance.

Wilkins took his courtship slowly, and he did not complain when Margaret entertained those other gentlemen. He was a constant source of news regarding the war, and would sit in Margaret's parlor, drinking tea and telling her everything he knew. She read a lot of it herself in the broadsheets and she received letters from Gabriel as well – serving out in the back country, but Wilkins, along with Mr. Mason, was quietly helping to form a Loyalist Militia and had greater access to the goings on for the Loyalist side.

Wilkins explained that the British were indeed coming, heading directly towards Charles Town. He expected them to lay siege to the town very soon, and if they could oust the Continental presence in Moncks Corner, they would gain the town with ease. Charles Town would become a base for further operations in the North. They had had some success so far, but Charles Town was proving very difficult for General Sir Henry Clinton to capture.

Finally, in 1780, the siege began. Margaret was terrified, as were her friends and family. Aunt Prudence had moved back to Rhode Island reluctantly, but she could not stand to stay and watch the battle that would eventually unfold before their eyes. She begged Margaret to accompany her, but Margaret held firm. For six long weeks the town was bombarded by Clinton's forces trying to gain the town, the ships in the harbor firing canons. He did his best to cut off supplies to the town, as well.

They had heard a great deal about one Colonel William Tavington of the Green Dragoons. Gabriel had mentioned him in his letters, of how Tavington's cavalry would enter the battle and lay havoc about them, without showing quarter even to surrendering troops. Wilkins had defended the Dragoons, of course, he thought Tavington to be a brilliant strategist.

Margaret found herself inundated with guests when the seige began. Mary had asked her parents permission stay with Margaret, and they had reluctantly agreed so that Margaret would not be alone. There was her cousin, Mr. Peter Chambers and his wife Katie, and Mrs. Barlow – an elderly widow who lived on the street. The Mason's descended on her door step, laden with food and supplies, and their little daughter Amelia.

"Safety in numbers!" Mr. Mason had explained brightly, Margaret thought he wanted all four most important women in his life, Claire, Margaret, Mary and Amelia, in one place where he could protect them easier. Margaret invited Charlotte to stay too, and when Charlotte saw the stronghold Mr. Mason was making out of the Putman family home, she accepted gratefully. The house was filled to the rafters, with all the servants and maids, but they still found room for Mr. Wilkins when he came by to check on Margaret.

It was Mr. Mason's idea, the two men being such excellent friends. When Mr. Mason suggested it, Mr. Wilkins had looked at Margaret, and asked if he could speak with her alone.

"It could get very dangerous, Miss Putman, especially when the battle starts. I would like to stay, but only with your blessing." Mr. Wilkins asked when they were alone in the little parlor.

"I'd be grateful if you would stay, Mr. Wilkins. Mr. Mason is sure the fighting will not enter the homes, but what if it does? And there are enough married women here to serve as chaperones…"

"Margie, that day in the parlor…" Wilkins began. "Nothing like that will ever happen again. I won't stay in this house if it makes you feel unsafe."

"James – don't. I would not be letting you near me at all, if I didn't know that! I feel perfectly safe with you, far safer with you than without – considering! No, please stay, and do not think any more of it."

He smiled gratefully and they both returned to the others.

The women were glad to have three young, strong men to keep them safe – and the men busied themselves strengthening their stronghold. There were muskets and pistols placed in easy reach throughout the house, all of Margaret's valuables were put away. Some of the windows were boarded up, but not all. They still had to live there, and the women objected heartily to the men about being forced to live in a cave.

The men would venture out onto the street to get news, the broadsheets where still being printed so they were not completely blind to the world outside.

Margaret constantly had to mediate between Charlotte and James – within the first week they had had such a set to, and afterwards they refused to speak to each other. Mrs. Barlow was a Patriot as well, she and Charlotte where the only two in a house filled with Loyalists – tensions were running high before the siege ended.

"James!" Margaret had admonished after his and Charlotte's latest 'discussion'. Charlotte never lost her temper – not visibly, but her face would turn blotchy and red – Margaret felt sure Charlotte would shock everyone and start screaming if she had another argument with Wilkins. "You must try to contain yourself; I know you are frustrated – Clinton will break through the siege when the time is right and not a moment before! Please – I don't want this to be war in my own home between my own loved ones! If Charlotte decides to leave and stay in her own home – she will be unsafe!"

Wilkins had a muley expression his face at first, he stood before her, arms folded across his chest, but he stared at her with astonishment at being called a 'loved one', and his demeanor suddenly relaxed, and he smiled.

"All right, Margie. I will not speak about it again, in Charlotte's hearing. Though I do not understand how she can be a Patriot…" He shook his head, and threw his arms up in surrender when Margaret started tapping her foot with impatience.

The truth was, Margaret could not understand Charlotte either. Margaret believed as Wilkins did, that resistance to the Crown was morally wrong. The Putman's and the Wilkin's where both wealthy families, with long history and their wealth was tied to Britain.

When her father was alive he had business interests that required British protection to maintain. He had sold those businesses when he became too ill to manage them, and the money had gone directly to Margaret and Charlotte when her parents had passed.

All they had, all they owned was thanks to the British protection of their father's interests. Of course – Charlotte's plantation was her husband's… But still, Charlotte had done well from her parent's Estate.

All three sisters had been bought up with Loyalist ideals, but Elizabeth was the first to break away when she married Benjamin Martin. It still surprised Margaret that her father had liked Benjamin so much, despite his being a Patriot. Then again, Benjamin did have an easy going way about him, perhaps Mr. Putman found him refreshing. And now, of course, Charlotte was deeply in love with Benjamin, and had come to believe as he did, and she had, no doubt been influenced by Elizabeth before she passed away.

Before the war began, there was order in the town. They had a Police force and Royal Officials who maintained that order. After the Assembly meeting, everything changed. Margaret felt she was at the mercy of mob rule and had no confidence in the Patriots efforts to protect the people of Charles Town, especially those the Patriots knew had Loyalist leanings. Wilkins and Mr. Mason both had narrowly escaped several attacks.

Benjamin had been right at the Assembly meeting – Margaret was dreadfully afraid of the three thousand tyrants that suddenly seemed to be in loose control of the colonies.

But Charlotte was her sister, and Margaret did not want to contend with her over who had the right and who the wrong. It was not within Margaret's or Charlotte's ability to control who won the war, but being family, they would do what they could to protect each other either way.

For the next few weeks, Wilkins was cordially polite to Charlotte, and in an effort to keep Margaret happy Charlotte was cordially polite too. They tried not to discuss the war within each other's hearing, keeping to safer, inane topics like the weather.

But early in the morning of April 14, 1780, the news came that Moncks Corner had been taken.

Colonel Tavington, of the Green Dragoons, surprised the Continental force stationed at Moncks Corner, forcing them out of the strategic stronghold.

Wilkins had not been able to contain his excitement. He had run upstairs to Margaret's rooms, where she was sitting with Charlotte and Mrs. Barlow. Margaret could hear celebrating coming from downstairs and she was about to go and find out what was happening when Wilkins came bursting into her sitting room.

"The Green Dragoons have taken Moncks Corner! This is it! With Moncks Corner taken, Clinton will take Charles Town, as easy as walking through the park! This is it!" He grabbed a laughing Margaret around the waist, hoisted her into the air and then wrapped her around with a bear hug.

Charlotte and Mrs. Barlow were silent for a time before rising from their chairs and retiring to their rooms with frosty dignity.

Margaret and Wilkins celebrated on their own. Margaret was so excited about the news, she quickly shut her bedroom door and grabbed Wilkins by the hand, leading him to a chaise.

"Tell me more, how did he do it? Colonel Tavington, I mean..."

Wilkins covered his sudden yearning for Margaret, by telling her the details as he knew them. She had not let go of his hand and she seemed as joyful as he was. "At around 3am this morning, Tavington led a large patrol of Dragoons into Moncks Corner, and they took the town by surprise. He, _they_ I should say, drove the Patriot force away!"

"So what does it mean for us?"

"It's as I said, Sir Clinton will be able to lift the siege, and the town is more or less his already!"

Margaret threw her arms around Wilkins neck, all at once pleased, relieved and fearful of what was to come. Wilkins placed his hands loosely on her waist, but made no other moved toward her, though he desperately wanted to kiss her.

Margaret pulled back slightly with a smile, and knowing Wilkins would not make the move first, she placed both hands on either side of his face and laughing, kissed him soundly on the lips. He groaned, and gripped her waist tighter, returning the kiss with passion.

"I am forgiven? Truly?"

"Oh, you silly man, you were forgiven long ago. I was just so young, James..." she trailed a finger along his cheek, and then kissed him again, more seriously this time.

"Margie," Wilkins pulled back for a moment, "Will you - "

"No! Please James, don't ask yet... I'm not ready. I don't know why, but I'm not... Let's just enjoy the moment..."

Wilkins sighed with resignation, and settled for holding Margaret close and kissing her gently. It became difficult for him, when Margaret deepened the kiss, touching her tongue to his. Before long they were both sighing and their breathing became labored. Margaret had been having her waking dreams far more often of late and she found she needed... Something... She did not know what. She moved to sit astride James, and pressed herself against him. He looked up at her with surprise and pleasure, and when she started to move against him, he moved his hips in time with her. Margaret continued their kissing, slowly now, she wanted to savor the feelings flowing within her. James held her around her waist, pressing her down harder. He needed more, but controlled himself far better this time, simply increasing the pressure and speed. He angled his hips higher, knowing where Margaret needed him to press his hardness, even if she did not. He was close to his release, but resolved to hold on, to wait for her, but her next words undid him.

"Oh, James, this is Heaven! This is how Heaven must feel!"

He climaxed with a groan, wave after wave of pleasure surging through him in a joyful release. "Ah, Margie! Good God," he leaned back against the chaise, spent. Margaret continued her movements and after a second he joined in again, though he hoped she would climax soon, before he became too soft.

_No matter, she may let me use my fingers... _

Someone knocked on the door. Margaret let out a disappointed moan; she had been so close too... To _something_! There was more, she _knew _there was. Reluctantly, she climbed off Wilkins and collapsed on the chaise, and Wilkins had to go and answer the door.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Wilkins had been right, it seemed. Once Moncks Corner was in British control, it was smoother sailing for the Redcoat army to enter Charles Town, and the action Tavington had taken cut off an avenue of escape for the Continentals. Almost 5,000 Continental soldiers were captured.

Those where the worst days of the siege, just before it ended. Wilkins, Mary and Margaret would stand by the windows overlooking the balcony, watching the horror unfold. The battle was raging right there before them. The ships in the harbor were shooting their canons, and the men were running through the streets, fighting, Continentals against Redcoats.

"Come away, all of you." Mr. Mason would say, as he often did when they ventured too close to the windows. He would sit further in the parlor, holding Mrs. Mason's hand. Peter would sit with a sobbing Katie – she was not particularly brave. Charlotte and Mrs. Barlow kept to their rooms.

"How much longer do you think it will go on for?" Mary asked in the afternoon, in a small voice.

Mr. Mason just shook his head – he had no idea, of course.

"We should be out there fighting, Wilkins." He said longingly. Wilkins nodded silently at Margaret's side, and she took his hand in hers. They had not had a chance to be alone again since that day in her sitting room. Margaret thought it was probably a good thing, she no longer trusted herself, her need was too great.

"Oh no! My husband, please don't say it again!" Claire started to cry, and he put his arms around her comfortingly.

"It's alright dearest. I am here, and I'm not going anywhere." Their little daughter was, amazingly enough, sleeping in the other room, even with all the explosions and the shouting men outside.

And then it was over. 5,000 Continentals were surrendered and the Redcoat army, under General Sir Henry Clinton, was in charge of Charles Town. It was a huge blow to the Patriots, almost as soon as the Redcoats entered the town, Charlotte went home and started making preparations to close her house and move to her plantation.

Wilkins, however, was celebrating; he was so very pleased, as was Mr. Simms and Mr. Mason and all the other fellow Tories.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: May 1780 – The Removal of a Major**

"Why don't you come with me?" Charlotte asked Margaret. "It won't be safe here, not now. And they will billet their men in our homes! You will have Redcoats living with you under this very roof, and Aunt Prudence is not here!"

"Perhaps she will return now the siege is over. Besides, I have Maisy. And Jonah – you know he protects me well. Wilkins will be by often, and Mr. Mason is just up the street. No, Charlotte. I do not want to leave Charles Town, and I wish you would not either. They may take over your house with or without your permission…"

Charlotte let out an angry breath. "Don't think I have not thought of that, Margie. I have packed up everything of value; I am not leaving a single thing behind for these Redcoats if they do take over my house. You will keep an eye on it, won't you?" She asked worriedly.

"Of course I will! I will make sure they treat with it as I would expect this house to be treated. Don't worry about a thing, Charlotte."

They spent the afternoon together, and the next morning Margaret rose early to meet Charlotte outside of her house for their final farewell. The sisters could not help but cry as they embraced each other tightly; neither wanting to let the other go, both having chosen opposing sides in the conflict. Neither of them said it, they just clung to each other, trusting to their love and blood tie as sisters to keep them together while they were far apart.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Jonah appeared at the door of the parlor.

"Miss Putman, there is a Major Brendon here to see you."

Major Brendon barely waited for this announcement before he marched straight into the parlor. Jonah looked at him with disapproval, but Margaret nodded and waved her butler away.

_So this is the man who will be billeted here?_ She mused, eyeing him up and down. The Mason's already had Redcoats living in their house; they had been there for almost a week now. But Major Brendon and his men were newly arrived to Charles Town.

She did not like the look of him. He was well dressed in his Redcoat and black breeches and held himself as she imagined an Officer should. But he stared at her with frank appraisal, and a leery, lusty grin.

"Miss Putman?" he asked, stepping forward quickly. She rose to her feet, to stand tall before him, holding her body rigid.

"I am, Sir." She confirmed in a cold voice. She stood as tall as most men, with her almost six feet. Wilkins, and a few others, stood taller, but she was able to stare this man squarely in the eyes. "You are to be billeted here, I assume? How many soldiers do you bring with you?" She had been told there would be seven.

He had the temerity to stare at her, eyes moving up and down her body, resting on her bosom. Margaret tried not to breathe deeply, not wanting to give him another reason to stare.

Finally Major Brendon raised his eyes to hers, and instead of quailing at the coldness in he saw in their depths, as most gentlemen would, his leer deepened.

"Seven, my Lady. Can you handle us?" He pretended to cough, and then smiled slyly, giving her a deep bow. "That is to say, can your house handle so many?"

"Yes, Sir, it can." Margaret replied. She did not bother to dress him down for his lewd innuendo; it would have served no purpose. "If you will follow me, I will show you where your men will be sleeping."

He nodded, smiling that suggestive smile again.

_No, Sir, you will not be sleeping with me!_ She wanted to growl with frustration.

The rooms where spacious, and she had made sure there were two beds in two of the rooms, and one bed each in the others, knowing that the senior officers in Major Brendon's party would want their own rooms. She still had three empty rooms, but the order had come that she would billet seven Redcoats so she left the other three rooms closed. She had hired extra maids to help Maisy, and now that Margaret had seen the caliber of man to be billeted in her home, she resolved to do her best to protect those new maids, and her own Maisy.

Margaret recited in a cold voice, a list of her expectations and their routine. She told him when dinner, lunch and breakfast would be served, and she expected him to tell her prior to each meal how many officers would be dining, so that her cook and her assistants would not be worked needlessly. The maids would be in each day to clean the rooms, so she expected the gentlemen to be out of the rooms at those times, no exceptions. Hopefully this would restrict the soldiers from being near the maids, while they were working in the soldier's bedrooms.

"If you have anything of a confidential nature, I suggest it is locked away during the cleaning times, for your own peace of mind. If there is anything you need above and beyond what is provided, you will ask me, not go directly to my servants. This is my house, and I will do what I can to make your stay comfortable, but you WILL go through me, Sir."

With that, she led the way back into the parlor, to find six other officers sitting around, waiting. They stood when she entered, and the introductions where made.

"Yes, Miss Putman has made it clear, if there is anything we need, we are to go through her…" He leered suggestively. Margaret raised her head high to stare down her nose at him. His men laughed, it seemed she would find no help from them.

"Sir," Margaret said. "I do hope we are not going to have any problems, we should get along well enough if my requirements are met. If not, Sir Clinton will surely be notified."

Major Brendon's smile faltered, but the glint in his eyes remained. The threat was not going to hold him back for long, Margaret knew.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Two days later, Margaret's fears came true.

She had gone to visit the Mason's, in the hope that she might be able to go and stay with them while Major Brendon was in her home. She had felt very unsafe for the last two days, with his constant innuendo and leery smiles. Meal times had been a trial to say the least; he would not take his hot eyes off her. She had started to take her meals in her room.

Just that morning, as she was passing him in the hallway, he had reached out a steadying hand as though she had tripped.

"Are you alright Miss Putman?" He had said, dripping false courtesy. He had used the excuse to run his hand down her back and over her bottom. Margaret had jerked away angrily, and marched out of the house straight to Claire Mason's. Unfortunately, their house was completely overflowing with Redcoat's, they did not have a spare room for Margaret.

When she returned, she was astonished to find that Major Brendon had discovered Margaret's wine collection, in the cellar under the manor. He had appropriated several bottles of very fine high quality wine, and had set to drinking it all down with some of his men.

Margaret was furious. She already provided well for these men, she did not stint in the slightest, but this! She would not be ashamed to set wine of this quality before the King! Sir Clinton himself would not expect her to set it before his men!

She calmly collected the unopened bottles wordlessly, and left the room. There was nothing to be done about the opened ones. She walked down to the cellar, and placed them back on the shelves.

When she turned to leave, she gasped to find Major Brendon was standing before her, weaving back from side to side from the wine.

"You're a spirited one, aren't you?" He slurred as he advanced on her.

"Major, please step out of my way."

He didn't. Instead he made a grab for her, and shoved her against the wall. His hands where everywhere, all over her body – moving roughly over her chest, and then down to pull up her skirts. His wine soaked breath was hot against her face and ears, and he tried to kiss her but she twisted her face away.

"No matter," he slurred, pulling her long pants down, "this is what I'm after anyway. This is what I have been after ever since I met you, Miss Putman. My Lord you are beautiful. Stop fighting, you'll like it once I'm pumping inside you, I promise."

She screamed for help as he undid his breeches, and scratched at his face. His face turned from lust filled to blazing fury and he slapped her hard twice, across the face.

"Don't you do that again!" He bellowed, raising his hand for a third slap. She twisted her body away as much his weight against her would allow, and he lowered his hand, satisfied that she would not attack him again.

He reached down to unbuckle his belt, and then his breeches where down now around his ankles. Margaret tried not to look at his hard member as he held her still, parting her legs with his knee.

"Major…" came a voice from behind. "Come now, don't do anything you will regret."

"Shut it, Private Binning! You'll get a turn after me, if you shut up now."

Margaret screamed again, and then Jonah was there. He was a large man, and he served as a protector, not just a butler.

It was a tricky thing for him though, if he attacked the Major he could be hung, being a freedman. But it did not seem to faze him; he grabbed the Major and pulled him bodily from Margaret, and threw him to the ground.

The Private made no move to protest, he was clearly glad that the threat had been dealt with, and that he would not be the one faced with charges of disobeying a senior officer.

The Major was so inebriated he could not stand up on his own – he lay there on the cellar floor, growling threats up at Jonah while trying to pull up his breeches. Margaret fixed her clothing and ran from the cellar blindly, tears streaming down her face.

She did not know where she was going, as she ran out of the house, out onto the street. She did not stop running until she was in front of the Assembly Hall, now occupied by many Redcoat officials. Rage filled her; Margaret made her decision, and marched straight up the steps and into the Assembly Hall. She did not spend time taking in her surroundings, so different to the last few times she had been there, as she spied an administrative Officer sitting behind a desk. Margaret wove through the many Redcoats, toward the administrator.

Her crying had stopped, and she was in full rage now, ready to confront anyone who stood in her way.

"I demand to see Sir Henry Clinton right now!" She screamed at the administrator. She had no idea if she could make such a demand, but in her rage she did not care. The Officer stared at her in shocked silence.

"Ah, Miss… Sir Clinton is busy at the moment, perhaps you could come back – "

"I will _NOT_ come back! I have been attacked in my own home, by Major Brendon! I demand his instant removal from my home! I demand to speak with Cliinton _at once_!" Her voice had not lowered, she was in full tempest and if she raised her voice any further it would be shrill. Redcoats were stopping to stare at the spectacle.

"Miss?" A calm, placating voice said behind her. "Can I assist you?"

"Are you Sir Clinton?" She growled loudly, whirling to confront the newcomer, another Redcoat. He was equal to her in height, with dark hair and cold blue eyes. The Officer shook his head, considering her coolly.

Despite his cold, tense stance, he said in a reasonable voice, "No, Miss, I am Colonel Tav – "

"Then _NO_! You cannot help me!" She interrupted sharply, and turned her back on him, once again addressing the daunted administrator. "I was assured of my safety!" She yelled. "I was assured that the Officers billeted in my home would be _GENTLEMEN_!"

"Miss! You will cease this screaming, immediately!" The Officer behind her snapped sharply, clearly out of patience. His cold voice was full of command, and Margaret could not help but to turn slowly back to face the suddenly imposing Officer. He continued in quiet, clipped tones. "You will compose yourself, at once, and explain what has happened so that I may assist you!"

Margaret drew in several deep ragged breaths, her eyes focused on his. His expression was stern, and his brows where drawn down with anger but he waited in stony silence as she gathered herself. Finally the Officer gave a curt nod of approval.

"_Now_," he said soothingly. "Tell me, what has been done to you?"

Margaret forced her voice to calmness, and spoke quietly. "Major Brendon, who is billeted at my residence, attacked me in my own home. Do you see?" She pointed at her face, where her cheek still stung. "You must be able to see he struck me - twice! He tried to…"

She faltered, her eyes still locked on his as though trying to draw strength from those cold blue depths. Then she straightened her shoulders and forced her voice to be strong. "He tried to _rape_ me, Sir. I want his _immediate_ removal from my home. Can you help me with this?"

She saw shock in the Officer's expression. "Indeed I can, Miss…?"

"Putman."

"Miss Putman. Yes, I can assist you, if you would come with me now." He turned on his heel and strode briskly away; Margaret had to walk quickly to keep up as he led her to a small room that she had never been into before.

"Please take a seat, Miss Putman," the Officer offered politely, waving his hand curtly toward a comfortable chair. He remained standing before her, gloved hands hooked behind his back, looking down his nose at her.

"Are you ready to describe what happened?" He asked her in a calming voice, after a moment's consideration. The impatience and command were gone from his tone.

"Do you want the details?" She snapped.

Fury flashed across his face and he took a sudden step torward her, Margaret could not stifle a fearful gasp as she drew back from him.

"Yes," Though he did not raise his voice, his ice blue eyes raged. "I want the _details_, Miss Putman. I will need them if I am to help you have Major Brendon removed from your home. Now, tell me what has _happened_!" He grated with a crisp and compelling voice.

Margaret qualied with alarm and closed her eyes. With a huge effort of will, she went on in a milder tone, not wanting to anger this imposing man further.

"He has been rude and suggestive since he first arrived two days ago. I was ready to leave my own home and live with neighbors, just to keep safe! But their house is already filled with Redcoats; they have no room for me. This afternoon, when I arrived home after visiting with friends, I discovered Major Brendon had pilfered from my private store of wine. I keep a decent table, Sir, and I have not stinted in the least, but these wines are of very high quality. I was angered when I saw he had taken them and I was in the process of returning the unopened bottles to the cellar when he…"

She paused, taking another deep breath.

"Go on." He encouraged gently. Margaret was relieved to find his rage dissipating.

"He shoved me up against the wall, and he pulled down my bodice then pulled up my skirts. I was screaming at him to stop, and I scratched his face but he struck me. He pulled down his breeches and that was when his Officer, Private Binning, came in. The Major told the Private to shut up and he could have me afterwards. But then my butler, who is a large freedman, grabbed the Major and threw him to the floor." Margaret was suddenly worried for Jonah.

"Sir, I'm sorry, what is your name again?"

The man lifted his head slightly, and there was tightness around his eyes as he said in clipped tones, "Colonel Tavington."

Margaret's eye widened in recognition of the man who had executed a successful attack on Moncks Corner, the man who Gabriel had said was merciless on the battlefield. Gabriel had written of "Tavington's Quarter" which, of course, meant no quarter would be given at all to surrendering troops.

"Colonel Tavington," she said nervously, "please – Jonah is a good man, and he protects and serves me well. He must not be punished for this – he was doing his duty to me."

Colonel Tavington nodded, impatience flashing across his face. "Yes, yes!" He said, waving her concerns away with his hand.

He took a deep breath, continuing to regard her coolly. "Alright," he said finally, seeming to come to a decision. "Follow me."

"Where are we going, Sir?"

"To Sir Henry Clinton." He replied shortly, leading the way. "This is not Major Brendon's first transgression, and I mean to make sure it is his last."

They stopped outside of another room, waiting for admittance.

"What is your address Miss Putman?" Tavington asked, when she told him, he spoke briefly to another Officer wearing the same Redcoat with green trim as Tavington - another Dragoon, Margaret thought. The Dragoon darted away to do his bidding.

Margaret suddenly felt tired and wrung out, vulnerable. She wished she had been admitted into Sir Clinton when her storm had been in full tempest, not now when she could barely stand on her weakened legs.

"Colonel Tavington?" Margaret addressed the imposing Colonel meekly, he was staring straight ahead sternly, one arm looped behind his back.

"What is it?" He asked, turning to her with thinly veiled impatience.

Margaret swallowed hard, and then asked, "I am not going to have to go into all those details again, am I?"

Something in her voice caught his attention; she saw the tightness around his eyes soften slightly.

"Would you like me to speak for you?" He offered politely, with raised eyebrows.

Margaret bit her lip and shut her eyes, "I would appreciate that very much, Colonel Tavington."

He gave her a quick nod of acceptance, and then strode forward purposely when the doors to Sir Clinton's office opened.

Sir Clinton was another imposing man, Margaret was suddenly glad she had not come across him when she had been in full tempest after all. He was not alone in his office; there was another gentleman - an Officer and Mr. Simms - Alexander's father. Margaret wanted to run to him, but she held herself tall and straight, her hands calmly folded before her.

Colonel Tavington stood at her side close enough to touch, repeating her complaint.

"Sir Clinton, this young woman is Miss Putman." He said in his clipped tones. "She has come to lay a formal complaint before you, in regard to her ill treatment by Major Brendon, who is currently billeted in her home. This afternoon, Major Brendon stole wine from her personal stores, and then tried to rape her."

Mr. Simms gasped, Margaret looked toward him, and she saw his face was filled with affront at Tavington's words.

"And this is the thanks we get?" Mr. Simms asked firmly, puffing out his chest. "Come here Margie!" Margaret walked quickly to Mr. Simms; she thought she could feel Colonel Tavington watching her with those cold blue eyes.

Mr. Simms continued, "Sir! My son's fiancé, attacked in her own home?" He put his arm around her shoulders.

"Your son's fiancé?" Sir Clinton asked.

"This young lady was engaged to my late son. She would have been happily married to him these last few years if a sickness had not taken him. Miss Putman is like a daughter to me and my wife. She willingly opened her home; I assured her myself that she would meet with no harm! This is an _outrage_!"

"Yes, it certainly is, I could not agree more. Colonel Tavington, will you see that the Major is bought here, I will want to speak to Private Binning as well."

"Already done, Sir. They should be here shortly, Miss Putman's butler as well – he is the one who affected the rescue." Tavington said crisply.

"Good man, good." Mr. Simms approved, rubbing his hand on Margaret's arm comfortingly. "We will have this settled in no time at all then. Good Lord, Margie - tell me you are alright?"

Margaret nodded, her head bowed, trying to fight her tears.

"I'm so glad you are here, Sir…" She said quietly, and Mr. Simms smiled, patting her arm reassuringly.

They did not have long to wait, before Major Brendon, still weaving and lurching from the wine, was escorted into the room by several Dragoons, with the Private and Jonah.

Brendon, with bloody scratches marring his cheeks, was so drunk; he could barely stand to attention. He stared in open fear at Tavington for a moment, and then quickly covered it. He slurred his defense that Margaret was willing, she had thrown herself at him, and she had wanted his attentions. Mr. Simms stiffened with rage. The Private was questioned, and at Sir Clinton's behest he told the truth of what he had seen. Jonah was not questioned.

"Sir Clinton," Tavington said coldly - Margaret thought he was trying to contain his rage also. "May I remind you this is not the first complaint laid against Major Brendon?"

_Oh yes, they definitely have a history, _Margaret thought, when Major Brendon quailed at Tavington, feeling fear even in his drunken state.

Sir Clinton nodded. "Very well. Miss Putman, please be assured that Major Brendon will be punished for his transgression against you. He will, of course, be removed from your house at once. I still require your rooms, however, are you still willing to have men billeted within your home?"

Margaret sighed, pulling from Mr. Simms's embrace.

"Yes, sir, of course I am still willing to house Officers of His Majesty's army." She folded her arms across her chest and could not keep the tartness from her voice when she said, "but _gentlemen_ this time, if you please!"

Sir Clinton raised his eyebrows, but did not take her to task over her tone.

"Yes, Miss Putman, of course. The new officers will be on your doorstep on the morrow, please ensure the house is ready to receive them."

"Come, Margaret, let's get you home." Mr. Simms offered her his arm, ready to escort Margaret from the room, Jonah following along behind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five – Tavington's Billeting**

Tavington watched Miss Putman covertly as she gracefully crossed the room to join the Colonial, Mr. Simms. She had quite a fine figure, and was as tall as he, perhaps even taller. He was having a hard time keeping his mind on the business at hand, as images of her long, bare legs kept flashing through his mind. The doors opened again, and Captain Bordon escorted an inebriated Major Brendon into the room, along with Private Binning and the freedman Tavington assumed was Miss Putman's butler.

_She was not wrong - the man is huge!_

Tavington sneered coldly and looked away from Brendon, who cringed with fear upon seeing Tavington. The two men had had their share of wrangles before. Tavington hid a pleased smile when he saw the deep and bloody scratches Miss Putman had scored along Brendon's cheek. Brendon started to speak his defense, drivel about Miss Putman inviting the Major's advances and throwing herself at him.

Tavington's irritation was fueled by the suggestion, anyone with half a brain could see Miss Putman was a woman of quality, Major Brendon would have been beneath her notice. Private Binning gave the true account, when he happened upon them in the cellar; Miss Putman was weeping and pleading with Brendon to stop, and when Binning tried to reason with Brendon, he was offered the woman as well.

_She never mentioned anything about weeping... _Her earlier display of righteous fury had been quite impressive, he could not imagine her weeping_. _Tavington looked toward Miss Putman; she had her head down and seemed to be fighting tears. Tavington's rage soared, he stood absolutely still, any move toward Brendon would have had Tavington clamped in irons.

"Sir Clinton," Tavington said coolly - deliberately keeping his hand still and away from his sword, "May I remind you this is not the first complaint laid against Major Brendon?"

Sir Clinton nodded. "Very well. Miss Putman, please be assured that Major Brendon will be punished for his transgression against you. He will, of course, be removed from your house at once. I still require your rooms, however, are you still willing to have men billeted within your home?"

"Yes, Sir, of course I am still willing to house Officers of His Majesty's army." She folded her arms across her chest and said tartly, "but _gentlemen_ this time, if you please!"

Tavington kept his face still, not allowing his amusement to show.

"Yes, Miss Putman, of course. The new officers will be on your doorstep on the morrow, please ensure the house is ready to receive them."

"Come, Margaret, let's get you home." Mr. Simms offered her his arm, ready to escort Margaret from the room.

Miss Putman took Mr. Simms by the arm, and as she was passing by on her way to the doors, she reached out and put her hand on Tavington's arm. He gave her a startled look, then nodded gravely when she said, "Thank you, Colonel Tavington."

He watched her leave, and then as the doors closed he turned back to Sir Clinton, coldly attending the business at hand.

"A Flogging, Sir. Nothing else will do for Major Brendon's behavior."

"Quite," Sir Clinton surprisingly agreed with him. "And then he will be shipped back to England on the first boat. Tavington, you will see to it personally. Mr. Simms' daughter in law! Or close enough to make no difference!" Sir Clinton bellowed at Brendon. Tavington stood back to enjoy the spectacle, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Do you have any idea how much I need the influential and loyal men of South Carolina? And you try to rape a woman this one considers to be his daughter! If you had succeeded, Major Brendon, you would be hanging from your neck this very instant!"

Brendon quailed with fear; obviously wondering if that would be his fate after all.

"Tavington, you will also see to the removal of the Officers stationed at Miss Putman's manor. I doubt they will continue any further folly, but the sight of them may offend her, and worse, may offend Mr. Simms."

Tavington nodded, an idea suddenly forming in his mind. "Sir Clinton," he said guilelessly, "I would like to take up residence at Miss Putman's manor, if you have no objections. It is much closer to the Assembly Hall than the Chamber's residence." Tavington kept his face smooth, not showing his eagerness to be living under Miss Putman's roof.

"If you wish," Sir Clinton acquiesced.

There was nothing more to be said, Tavington took his leave with Bordon. He gathered up a few more Dragoons, and then rode over to Miss Putman's, Bordon leading the way. He saw her walking along the street slowly, her arm linked through Mr. Simms, the big freedman walking behind them. Tavington felt a tightening in his breeches as he eyed her lovely graceful figure until he passed them by.

The Dragoons dismounted at the back of Miss Putman's manor in her courtyard, and after stating his business crisply, set about to ousting the Officers from Miss Putman's house.

"Drunk!" Tavington sneered at Bordon. "Look at them! Unfit to serve, they should be packed off to England as well. I will speak to Clinton about it. They are a disgrace."

The Officers where lurching around the house, trying to pack their belongings, as Tavington's Dragoons tidied up the parlor. Tavington had the situation well in hand when a nervous and apprehensive Miss Putman entered the parlor with Mr. Simms.

"You have my absolute assurance that this will not happen again, Miss Putman." Tavington said without preamble. "These men are a disgrace to His Majesty's Army and are undeserving of their Redcoats."

Miss Putman's eyes widened in surprise. "I have to admit I was half expecting to be sent on my way when I entered the hall with my complaint, I was not expected to be taken so seriously."

"I assure you, we take rape _very _seriously. Major Brendon will be disciplined harshly for this. You have my word. I suggested he be flogged, and Sir Clinton agreed."

"Flogged?" Miss Putman said faintly.

"Flogged." Tavington said firmly, stepping forward to stand in front of her. "And he will be shipped back to England on the first boat."

_My Lord she is beautiful_. He could not but help but gaze at her beautiful eyes, her lovely full lips, her -

"Well, it seems you are in good hands, and I must away." Mr. Simms announced, interrupting Tavington's frank appraisal. "Colonel, will there be any reprisal against Miss Putman? I do not want to leave her here for even one night, for fear that Major Brendon or his men might retaliate."

"No, Mr. Simms, I assure you of Miss Putman's safety myself. As for Major Brendon, he will be lucky if he does not spend the night in irons."

Mr. Simms nodded gravely "You have my gratitude, Colonel Tavington."

After saying his last farewells, he left the house. Tavington found himself alone with Miss Putman.

"Flogged..." She said again, staring into space. "At your suggestion..."

"Miss Putman, as I said, we take rape very seriously. If he had succeeded in his attempt, he would have been hanged." Tavington said sternly. "Don't you dare feel sympathy for that man."

When she turned to him, her face was white and her hands were shaking. But she nodded meekly, and then walked over to pour herself a goblet of wine, holding the bottle up to Tavington questioningly. He nodded and she poured him one also.

"Do you know who Sir Clinton will station here, Sir?" Miss Putman asked, sitting down on a comfortable looking chair, Tavington sat across from her.

"Actually Miss Putman, I do. I asked Sir Clinton if I could move here, with some of my Officers."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "But, aren't you already billeted?"

Tavington shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, but it is not a... desired residence. Hmm, very good," Tavington murmured after taking a sip from his goblet.

"It _is _good, is it not? Far too good for that... That...!" She was obviously having trouble thinking of a word strong enough to describe Major Brendon.

"Poxy bastard? Or… Perhaps, son of a whore?" Tavington suggested, with a small smile. Miss Putman looked at him with shock, and then began to laugh. Tavington enjoyed listening to her rich laugh, her whole face transformed when she smiled.

"Yes," she said, chuckling. "Those describe him perfectly!"

"You are much more beautiful when you smile, Miss Putman," Colonel Tavington said, turning on the charm. "Though your anger earlier was impressive. A woman is at her most beautiful when angered. I think I am going to enjoy staying here."

Tavington hid his smile when she lowered her eyes and blushed, then his eyes opened wide with incredulity when she muttered, "just don't throw me up against the wall and we'll get along fine."

_I will have to control myself from doing just that! _Tavington thought, as his aching member reasserted itself in his breeches.

::::::::::::::::::::::

_"Just don't throw me up against the wall and we'll get along fine." _Tavington smiled at the picture those words conjured in his mind, of a beautiful and willing Miss Putman with her legs wrapped around his waist as he pummeled into her up against the wall. He sighed with appreciation, his member hardening again.

"We wouldn't have to leave at all if you hadn't mounted Mrs. Chambers, Tavington," Evans growled under his breath. Tavington was reclined on the Lieutenant's bed, his arms folded beneath his head. He and Evans had a long history, dating back to the days before Tavington had decided to buy his commission into the army. The two men had played the gaming tables and chased after women with equal ferocity, and when Tavington entered the army, Evans followed suit.

"You'll like this place better, Evans. It overlooks the harbor, the square and the Gardens. The view is... Spectacular," Tavington said with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, no... Here we go again..."

Tavington ignored his old friend, and tapped his boots together in some tuneless beat, his thoughts back on Miss Putman.

His first night billeted in this house, Tavington had resolved to behave himself. He was cordial to Mr. Chambers' wife, coolly polite and not encouraging in anyway. And still pretty Mrs. Chambers had slipped into his room in the dark hours of the night. She was a talented wee thing, Tavington had enjoyed her tongue on him, and when he entered her she had bucked against him with the passion of a starving widow. But she had continued to come to him each night, and would get upset when he indicated it was time for her to leave, which was usually as soon as he spilled his seed.

To make matters worse she had been mooning over him during the day, and her husband was starting to suspect. Time to be gone; he was bored of her in any case. Just now, he had encountered her in the hallway and she had grabbed his hand and pulled him into an empty room! Tavington was not one to say no, of course, so he took her then and there, turning her around to pummel her from behind. That way, he could imagine it was Miss Putman he had thrusting back against him moaning his name. He climaxed hard, harder than he had with the woman previously, with thoughts of Miss Putman playing through his mind.

"You know, we have needs too. There is a pretty, willing little maid here, name of Betty. I've been enjoying her company!"

"As have I, my friend!" Tavington laughed.

Evans shook his head in disgust.

"You can have Mrs. Chambers tonight that will even the score, surely?" Tavington suggested.

"She'll be coming to you!"

"I've had her just now; I won't want her again..."

Tavington had seen beautiful women since gaining the colonies, had bedded quite a few aside from Mrs. Chambers and Betty the maid. That was his only true interest in these people, their willing daughters and wives.

But this woman, this Miss Putman… Self possession personified. And beautiful – definitely beautiful. She was as tall as he was, possibly slightly taller. She dressed much like the other women, with a bodice and wide skirts. Her figure was fine, her lace veiled arms slim, her wealth of golden hair elaborately piled high. She wore no makeup that he could see, though she did not need it, she was young and hail and healthy. Her blue eyes where darker than his, and she had a perfectly straight nose. An endearing feature, was her top lip was bigger than her lower. It made him think of innocence.

Another endearing feature, Tavington thought, was her ample bosom. He had eyed her chest appreciatively though she did not seem to notice.

He could not discern her thoughts, which was unusual for him, he could normally read people like a book. Once she had calmed down and regained her composure, she had become closed to him. Her expression was regal, even haughty without marring her beauty. Her long fingered hands were placed calmly before her, and she had stood straight and tall, while they waited to be admitted to see Lord Cornwallis. He had been very surprised to hear the vulnerability in her voice, when she asked him if she would have to describe her attack all over again. Tavington's offer to speak for her left him feeling very gallant indeed.

_The actions of a gentleman_, he smiled to himself.

The knock on the door interrupted Tavington's musings; he rose to a more dignified position as Evans answered it.

Tavington frowned, his good mood fleeing. It was Mrs. Chambers. She came into the room, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Is it true?" She burst out. "Are you leaving?"

Tavington rose and quickly shut the door, turning to face her with barely veiled anger.

"Pull yourself together!" He growled quietly, "your husband might hear!"

"I don't care, even if he set me aside! I don't want you to leave!"

Tavington blew out an angry breath, full of disdain. Miss Putman was almost raped and she kept better composure than this silly woman! Definitely time to be gone.

"You ridiculous woman!" He sneered coolly as he stepped close to stand over her. "What makes you think I would have you, if he set you aside?"

She stared at him in shock, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. "You don't want me?" she quavered.

Tavington shook his head with incredulity; he could not help but laugh with derision. "I have had all I wanted from you, and do not require any more. My table is full, madam." He curled his lip as consternation flashed across her face.

"Easy, Colonel!" Evans said firmly, seeing his opportunity and stepping forward. "That is no way to treat a lady!"

Tavington was about to turn his anger on his friend, then stopped with realization. He tried not to smirk, as Evans put his arm around the weeping woman and she buried her head against his chest.

Tavington took a step back, feigning intimidation. He turned on his heel and strode from the room, then waited in the hallway until he heard the tell tale "Squeak, squeak, squeak" of the bed, and the stifled sound of moaning.

_There_, he thought, _that should make it up to you, Evans_. He whistled tunelessly as he walked down the hallway. They would be getting ready soon, for a dinner party at some Colonials house that MacIntyre, an administrator for Lord Cornwallis, had invited them too.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: To The Tory - thanks for your review and the info you gave! Margaret does have her enemies, chiefly Mrs Chambers, her cousins wife. At the moment you've only seen Margaret with her close friends and family, so it's only natural that they care for her. But Mrs. Chambers will provide me with the opportunity to bring in some antagonism... That was an awesome idea, to look up 18th century paintings - thank you for suggesting it!_

_:-)_

Chapter Six - Dinner at the Mason's

Shortly after lunch, Mary Thompson and Alice Aldridge descended on Margaret's house in Tradd St with demands to know what had happened with Major Brendon. News travels fast in Charles Town, especially news of this type.

They decided to go for a walk through the square across from Margaret's house, and she told them all that had taken place, while strolling along slowly in the sunshine. The three women walked with their arms linked, Margaret in the middle.

Mary and Alice were both horrified, and relieved that Margaret was well.

"It does not matter, he is gone now, and Colonel Tavington will be replacing him." Margaret felt a thrill of excitment race up her back by the very thought.

"Oh ladies, he really is terribly handsome! I have seen him before, I realize now. From my balcony, I've seen the Dragoons ride by many a time and I thought he was quite handsome then too, but oh my…"

Margaret pulled her arm free from Mary's, to fan herself with her hand. Her friends giggled.

"I've seen him too, have you, Alice? I agree he is rather handsome. There is another Dragoon, though I'm not sure of his name – he is taller than Tavington and fair of hair. I think he is even more handsome!"

"Good!" Margaret said with a giggle, she did not want to get into a wrangle with her friends over a man.

"Well, having said that," the mischievous Mary continued, "Tavington is the Colonel… And he has the most wondrous eyes I've ever seen, and…"

Margaret swatted playfully at her friends arm, before linking hers back through Mary's.

It was then that Margaret noticed Alice's silence.

"Your quiet, Alice…" Margaret ventured.

"Well, I haven't seen him, of course…" Alice said. "But, it seems as though he has quite managed to turn your head, Margie. You haven't mentioned Mr. Wilkins once."

Margaret took a deep breath, realizing it was true. She had not thought of James all morning, which was understandable considering Brendon's attack, but then the rest of the day was spent in her waking dreams, and in these ones Colonel Tavington reined supreme. The things had been doing to her…

Margaret felt her face flush. "We aren't engaged, Alice…"

Alice gave Margaret a hard look; it seemed to say _'You might as well be!'_

"I've heard some things about Tavington…" Alice began.

"Haven't we all?" Margaret asked tartly, thinking again of Gabriel's letters.

"Margie!" Alice snapped.

Margaret fell silent, letting her friend speak.

"I am talking about the way he treats us colonists. According to Mrs. Morris, he is very contemptuous and does not even both hiding his dislike for us. He is very disdainful, looking down his nose at everyone as though we are not as good, not as well bred, or refined as our English cousins. And it's not only Mrs. Morris; she is just one person that has complained to me about the man's manners… Or lack thereof!"

"Well, he was not disdainful of me this morning, Alice. He was very helpful, and understanding. Well, if I'm completely honest he was quite fearful as well, he has such presence! So imposing… But he treated with me fairly, for all of that. Major Brendon has been removed from my home, after all."

They fell silent as they came across some damaged buildings, already in the early stages of repair. The battle had been at its most fierce here. Surely it was an indication of Sir Clinton's intentions in the colonies, that he would already be repairing the damaged buildings. He was not bringing fire and destruction; he was rebuilding and allowing the populace to live their lives.

The Loyalists, anyway.

Lots of known Patriot's houses were being seized. Charlotte's was one of them, Margaret had been dismayed to see. And there was nothing she could do to protect her sister's house after all. Some of the more prominent familes, such as The Middleton's were in a panic. Henrietta Middleton was married to Edward Rutelidge, who had been imprisoned when Sir Clinton took Charles Town.

Gossip abounded that the family, who were trying to protect their vast empire, were having a hard time trying to convince Clinton of their Loyalty, because of their connection to Rutelidge, who was the youngest representative to have signed the Declaration of Independence. According to that same gossip, Mr. Middleton had donated a considerable sum of money to the British cause. Margaret wondered if it was all true, Middleton had spoken quite strongly in favor of the Patriot cause at the Assembly meeting a few years ago.

Redcoat Officers were walking by, attending to this task or that, and each one nodded politely towards Margaret and her companions. Margaret was starting to think Major Brendon was alone in his lecherous behaviors; all other officers she encountered were polite and gentlemanly.

Her thoughts again turned to Colonel Tavington. He frightened her and excited her all at the same time, she found the combination to be thrilling. Margaret had not felt such butterflies in her stomach since she was with her late fiancé. She tried not to feel them for Tavington, Alice was right, she was being courted by Wilkins, but she could not help the way she felt.

The ladies began to talk again as they made their slow way back to Margaret's house.

"What will you be wearing tonight, Alice?" Margaret asked, they were having dinner at the Mason's. Mr. Mason had been wanting to have a dinner party to welcome the Redcoats that were billeted in their home. They had invited most of their inner circle of friends, some of them married couples, but Mary, Alice, Margaret and Mage Fergusson were as yet unmarried.

"Match making again…" Alice said with a resigned sigh. "They have made sure that we will all be there, to be viewed by the Redcoats…"

Margaret raised her eyebrows at Alice.

"Oh alright! I will be wearing a _lovely_ dress of the palest pink, with _lovely_ laces and my emerald hair net…" Alice did not care too much for fashion, it was only thanks to her expert maid that she dressed as well as she did.

Mary described her dress in much more detail and with much more passion.

"I have been looking forward to this dinner for days, so I can finally wear it!" She said enthusiastically.

"Miss Margaret," Maisy called as the ladies strolled to the front of Margaret's house. "It is time to start getting ready for the dinner party. I have laid out your lovely burgundy dress with the black slashed skirts, you have never worn it before and I know exactly how to do your hair…"

"Burgundy and black…" Margaret sighed, "The colours are so bold!"

She turned to her friends and embraced them both farewell and headed into the house.

After she bathed and Maisy helped her to dress, Margaret sat in front of her mirror letting Maisy work wonders on her hair. It always took the longest time, her hair was so long and Maisy worked it into intricate and elaborate styles at the best of times, let alone before a dinner party or ball.

Margaret smiled wistfully and closed her eyes as Maisy gently pulled her hair this way and that, and drifted off into a waking dream of Tavington, leaving soft kisses along her neck. She had kissed James several times in recent days, but it never became as heated for her since that day in her sitting room. She had sat astride him, and the whole world had seemed to disappear as warmth and sensation had built toward something within her.

Until Mary had knocked on the door!

James always seemed to respond with far more passion for her than she did for him. She did not allow their kisses to be more than that, and he did not press her, but she could feel it within him. The way he breathed, the way he looked at her with hooded eyes, the feel of his hardness pressed against her.

Alexander had been the same too. A few months before they were to be married, Alexander and Margaret had started to explore each other – not wanting to wait for their wedding. She had felt him, and enjoyed the way he writhed beneath her touch. He had felt her too, but even with his hands on her, she felt the yearning, the need – knowing there was so much more.

In her waking dream of Tavington, he gave her the 'so much more' she had been yearning for.

Margaret struggled to keep her breathing under control, and her face composed as Maisy did her hair, and as Tavington's hand drifted under her skirts to run slowly along her thighs. She nearly sighed out loud, imagining his hand pressed against her through her stockings, circling his palm slowly against her as his lips met hers.

_She pushed against his hand, encouraging him to apply more pressure, as his tongue touched hers. Margaret slowly rotated her hips in small circles, against Tavington's firm touch._

_"Oh Colonel…" She whimpered, her face flushed._

Her face was flushed she realized, when she looked into her mirror. Maisy did not seem to notice, so Margaret slipped back into her dream.

_"You are so beautiful Margie," Tavington whispered in her ear. He moved his palm up further along her, until it was his fingers touching her centre, slowly rotating against her flesh. The touch of his fingers was was far more direct than his palm had been. Margaret gave a low moan of satisfaction, deepening their kiss._

_"You have the most incredible eyes…" Margaret moaned, her own eyes glazed with need. The familiar feeling was building within her, gaining intensity. She pushed against his fingers, more insistently than before, her hips working harder and faster. She pulled back from his kiss and bit her lip, as her moans escaped her. "Oh yes, I've wanted this for so long… oh finally, it's going to happen, finally I'll know…"_

"Are you well, Miss Margaret?" Maisy asked, jerking Margaret out of her reverie. Margaret stared wide eyed at her maid through the mirror for a moment wondering if she had been moaning out loud.

"Quite… Uh… Quite well, Maisy. I'm fine. I was just thinking of what happened this morning, that's all."

_Oh Lord, I was actually moving my hips back and forth! This dream actually made me lose my control! Did she notice?_

"Understandable, Miss Margaret. What a terrible thing to have happen! I was ever so worried…" Maisy continued to chatter as she worked on Margaret's hair and Margaret let out a sigh of relief.

Maisy had not noticed.

Two hours later, Margaret stood before her mirror, wearing her burgundy and black dresses, admiring her reflection. She would be leaving for the dinner shortly; the carriage was being driven around already. Maisy had worked magic; Margaret's hair was piled high with intricate braids, and secured with a ruby studded net. She had long tendrils gently curling down around her shoulders.

Margaret had chosen a ruby to encircle her throat, to match those in her hair net.

She was ready.

_After how many hours of preparation?_ She thought with a rueful smile. Margaret swept from the room and walked through the house to her carriage. The drive to the Mason's was short, they lived only seven houses down on Tradd St and Margaret could have walked. However, that would have been unseemly, walking along the street in all her finery to attend a dinner party. So no sooner had she settled herself on the seat and her driver set out, that he was stopping and opening the carriage door again. Margaret shook her head, feeling a little sheepish. She really could have walked…

But then she was welcomed into the brightly lit, warm house and escorted, fashionably late, into the large open parlor and there was her friend, Mrs. Claire Mason – embracing her and smiling brightly.

"I do not know how you manage to be late, Miss Putman, every time – you only live seven doors down!" Mr. Mason admonished. Margaret smiled fondly at him, allowing him to take her hand and kiss it.

"Mary is not here yet, but come in and meet our guests! Some of whom you know, of course," Claire said, taking her friend's arm.

Margaret glanced toward a man standing near the fireplace and her eyes widened in surprise and she had to stifle a gasp. She quickly schooled her face into a polite smile, being well bred to a fault; she was used to hiding it when she felt shock or amazement…

Or the butterflies flipping and dancing in her stomach.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington stood by the fireplace holding a brandy in a careless grip. The invitees made up a large group, Captain Bordon, Tavington, and Evans, the Officers billeted here were circling the room, including MacIntyre. There were some Colonial notables and their wives, and two young unmarried women – Miss Fergusson and Miss Aldridge – they were not particularly beautiful, to Tavington's eye.

They were expecting two other young women as well. Mrs. Mason had already joked that the two ladies liked to be 'fashionably' late, which irritated Tavington. He was always on time and he did not like to be kept waiting, especially by colonials. So far the company left a lot to be desired, but he had become accustomed to that in this country. He had learned to keep a flat expression, learned to control his sneering and contempt, but only up to a point. The wine and brandy were of excellent quality, there were always the good to outweigh the bad, as Evans' continually reminded him.

At least Evans' and Bordon are here. He thought to himself. The night will not be a complete waste.

_And it does get me away from Mrs. Chambers_.

These people where slightly better than some of the others he had encountered, he had to admit and they did have their charms. Mrs. Claire Mason was quite the beauty, and if he was billeted in this house he would have given her a wild chase.

But when **_she_** walked into the room… He stood still with shock, his eyes hot on her. Thoughts of her had consumed him all through out the day, he had even had to grab Betty and pull her into his room to get some relief from the arousal those thoughts had inspired in him.

Miss Putman was smiling brightly at Mrs. Mason as they embraced, and when Mr. Mason took her hand, she gave a delighted laugh at Mr. Mason's complaint, but before she could respond in kind she happened to catch Tavington's gaze.

Tavington saw her shock – quickly schooled into a fixed smile.

Tavington watched Miss Putman, as she was led around the room and introduced to the people she did not know and greeted those she did. He admired how quickly her composure was restored. He admired the way she moved, so graceful, her blue eyes sparkling brightly in the candlelight. He neck, so long, he longed to rain kisses along that soft skin…

And then it was his turn to be introduced.

"Colonel Tavington," Mr. Mason said, bringing Miss Putman over to stand before him. "Might I introduce Miss Putman? Who, though she lives only seven doors down, still manages to be late to every single engagement we have in our home."

Miss Putman laughed, turning to face Mr. Mason.

"I am nothing if not consistent. That is an admirable trait, is it not?"

Tavington realized again how low and husky her voice was, the drawling Carolina accent coming from this beauty had his member hardening, he was already imaging her whispering his name and moaning in his ears with that lovely voice as he, naked and covered with a thin film of sweat from his exertions, plunged into her again and again and –

"We have already met, haven't we, Colonel Tavington?" Miss Putman said with a small, shy smile.

"Indeed we have," Tavington replied warmly, "though the circumstances were rather strained – I think meeting you now, as though for the first time, is much more to my liking."

_Charm always wins the day._

She lowered her eyes and her breath seemed to quicken, when he took her hand and placed a kiss lightly on its top. Tavington lingered over her hand for longer than he should have, and was rewarded when her smile deepened and her face flushed.

_Let the seduction begin,_ he thought merrily, eyes piercing hers with anticipation.

"Oh? I had not heard, you've not mentioned it before, Margie!"

Hmm, Margie... I could whisper that in her ear, as my hand moves back and forth between her legs.

"Because we only met today, Colonel Tavington helped me have that dispicable Brendon removed from my house."

She lowered her voice for his ears alone and said with a chuckle, "That poxy bastard."

Tavington smiled slowly, he did not think she was used to cursing.

"Truly! Well that is good news!" Mr. Mason exclaimed. "We were ever so worried about you!"

"And some of the Dragoons will replace Brendon, from tomorrow. That's correct, isn't it, Colonel?"

"Indeed, first thing tomorrow morning." Tavington said, he did not think he did a good job of hiding the anticipation in his voice.

_Well, I did tell her she was beautiful, no point in trying to hide my regard now._

The butler entered once more, to announce the last member of their party, and Mr. Mason moved away to greet her.

"Stand with me, Miss Putman," Tavington invited.

Miss Putman nodded and moved to stand close beside him, turning to watch the newcomer enter the room.

Miss Mary Thompson was pretty, with her black hair and bright brown eyes, though all Tavington could think about was Miss Putman, standing close to him with her hands at her sides. He was close enough to smell her scent, the clean smell of roses. Close enough that if he were to reach his hand slightly closer, he would be touching her fingers.

She twitched her hand away with surprise, and turned to him with wide eyes. Miss Putman laughed softly and shook her head at his warm, teasing smile, before returning her attention to the other woman. She did not pull her hand away when he caressed his fingers along hers a second time. The other revellers where oblivious, Miss Putman's voluminous skirts hiding their caressing fingers. She kept her face composed, eyes forward, but Tavington could hear her soft sigh of pleasure.

"I am glad I am not wearing my gloves, your skin is so soft," Tavington hid his words by sipping from his goblet.

"And yours are rough and calloused, typical man's hands..." She whispered with a teasing smile.

"I hope they do not offend you too much, my calloused man's hands. Perhaps I should..." He started to withdraw his hand from hers slowly, and then chuckled when she gripped his fingers. He continued his slow caresses with increasing pleasure.

Tavington imagined her long legs wrapped around his waist, her lovely long hands gripping his arms as he plunged into her again and again and –

"Colonel Tavington, may I introduce Miss Mary Thompson?" Mr. Mason asked. The woman was smiling and she gazed at him in frank appraisal. To Tavington's disappointment, Miss Putman pulled her hand away from his.

Tavington bowed slightly, taking Miss Thompson's hand and kissing it lightly on its top. He released it straight away without lingering, and noticed Miss Putman's pleased smile out of the corner of his eye. The gesture had not been lost on her.

Then Miss Putman moved forward to embrace the woman, and walked away with her, arm in arm!

Tavington stood still with shock, watching Miss Putman's fine figure retreating across the room.

He was left to himself, and had to settle for giggling Miss Fergusson and the quiet Miss Aldridge for company! He could not stop himself from staring at Miss Putman with narrowed eyes, could not pull his eyes from her as she moved about the room, smiling her beautiful smile, laughing her beautiful laugh, flirting and teasing in that lovely husky voice, with the other Colonial men, with MacIntyre and Bordon.

"Ah, Tavington?" Evans said quietly. He had not even heard Evans approach, engrossed as he was with Miss Putman. He spared an irritated glance for his lieutenant. "Old friend, Miss Putman, is not the only woman in the room and the others are starting to talk."

Tavington blew out an angry breath, but nodded; finally turning his attention to the other two ladies.

Dinner was a torment. Through terrible luck, Tavington was seated between Miss Thompson and Miss Aldrige, while Miss Putman was seated at the other end of the table with MacIntyre and Bordon. To make matters worse she was seated on the same side of the table as himself, so he could not make eye contact with her, they could not exchange flirtatious glances. He could hear her voice and her rich laugh but that made the torment worse. He resolved to interrogate Bordon later; he would tell him everything Miss Putman said.

Finally it was over, and after a brandy, the men joined the women in the parlor. Miss Putman was sitting on a chaise chatting amiably with Miss Aldrige, and Tavington saw his opportunity. He had to stare down MacIntyre for the privilege. The other man quickly retreated under Colonel Taington's icy gaze and then he was finally where he wanted to be, sitting alongside Miss Putman on the chaise. She greeted him warmly, despite her earlier inattention.

Despite his irritation, Tavington resolved not to be rude to Miss Putman's friends, knowing that would be the best way to lose her regard. The other woman moved away shortly afterwards, in any case, when the others asked her to play on the pianola.

Miss Putman met Tavington's eyes shyly, and he smiled when she looked down with a smile of her own. He looked over his shoulder quickly; to be sure no one else was paying them any mind, before reaching for her hand, gently caressing his fingers along hers again. She sighed, again returning his gentle caresses.

"Did you enjoy your dinner conversation, with Bordon and MacIntyre?" he asked her, for want of anything else to say, as his fingers glided along hers.

"Quite," She said, a little breathlessly. "They are both very friendly, and easy to talk too. Bordon has such interesting stories! I feel like I have known them for years. And you? Have you enjoyed yourself this evening?"

"I admit I would have preferred a different seating arrangement at dinner..." He said as he wound his fingers firmly through hers, caressing her thumb with his. Her breath caught and her eyes closed for a moment, with the enjoyment of having her hand held so securely in his.

Then she laughed when he continued, "I enjoy Bordon's stories too..."

"Ahh, but being a Dragoon, you have probably heard all of his stories before. Are you sure that was the only reason you desired a different seating arrangement, Colonel Tavington?"

Tavington liked her playful nature. "There may have been another reason... Ah, yes - I remember now. There is a particularly beautiful woman here tonight who I would have liked to become better acquainted with."

"Oh? Cruel of you, you will have me feeling quite jealous." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then pulled out of his grasp with panic when Miss Fergusson drew close. Tavington kept his face smooth, stifling an irritated scowl.

Miss Putman fell silent as the music started. She watched her friend playing with a small smile, flicking her foot in time with the music. Tavington was more interested in watching Miss Putman.

"She plays beautifully, doesn't she?" Miss Putman asked him after a moment.

"I suppose she is adequate." Tavington said, his irritation at not being able to hold her hand making him thoughtless. He was busy gazing at the rosy glow the wine had put in Miss Putman's cheeks.

She laughed with incredulity. "You must not have an ear for music, Sir! I think she is quite accomplished."

Tavington could not help himself. "You must not have an ear for music, Miss Putman." He replied with a sniff. Her eyes widened, and then narrowed with offense.

"Yes, I've heard of your disdain for your rustic Colonial cousins." She said with a sniff. "I'm sorry we are such a disappointment to you."

"Some of you are not," Tavington replied, trying to take her by the hand in an effort to mollify her.

She pulled her hand from his, and reached for her glass of wine so he could not take a hold of it again.

Tavington sighed, vexed. He had always found it difficult to hold his tongue, preferring to speak his mind. Lord Cornwallis admonished him for it continually; he would never make a good diplomat.

"Do you play?" He asked her.

"Of course," she said shortly, her attention on Miss Aldrige.

"Would you play tonight, for me?" He coaxed her gently, wishing they were alone so he could reach out and run his fingers through that stray delicate curl... He would touch it to hips lips, and his fingers would drop to her shoulder where he would caress her skin ever so gently, and she would sigh as he moved his hand to caress her neck -

"You must be joking!" She snapped. "I wouldn't dare, you are far too hard on us, Sir. No. I will not play for you."

"Miss Putman," Tavington began, trying to keep the edge from his voice, in an effort set things aright. She had been smiling when he sat down! "I would never judge _you_ harshly - "

"No? You'll save that for my friends?" She asked, still with that scathing tone. Tavington felt his anger rising, but through an extreme effort of will he managed to bite back the cruel retort that rose to his lips.

"What are you two talking about, over here all alone? It must be intriguing," Tavington stared coolly at the woman, not bothering to try and place her name, though he knew he had met her before.

_One of the Colonial's wives..._ He thought dismissively.

"Nothing of import, Mrs. Morris." Miss Putman replied shortly. "Music."

"Music is of huge import, Miss Putman!" Mrs. Morris gushed. "I never would have thought to hear you say those words, considering. Colonel Tavington, Miss Putman is easily the most accomplished in this room tonight, and her voice!" She turned back to Miss Putman.

"You must sing for us, while Miss Alridge plays! It will be like old times. We have not all been together like this, you see, Colonel, since before the siege began."

Miss Putman was shaking her head, but it was too late, too many had heard the request. At their urging she put her wine glass down and rose reluctantly, shooting a baleful glare at

_Clearly, it is my fault_, he thought with irritation.

She walked over to stand at Miss Aldridge's side, and they spent quite some time fussing and arguing over which piece should be played. Finally it was settled and Miss Alridge started the piece. Miss Putman stared straight ahead with glittering eyes, and then started to sing. She projected her voice softly at first, as the piece required, but before long her voice soared across the room.

Her eyes lost that angry glint as the music moved through her, and before long everyone was clapping softly, their eyes riveted on Miss Putman. Everyone including Tavington. He stared at her in frank admiration, her voice filled him. She sang faster now, turning to Miss Aldrige and smiling as her friend picked up the tempo. She had such a rich voice, perfectly in tune, had such range! Hitting the high notes and the low with ease. The song was over far too soon for Tavington, who could have watched and listened to this beautiful woman all night long.

"See," Mrs. Morris said, her face flushed with enjoyment. "The most accomplished!"

"Quite!" Tavington agreed fervently. He watched Miss Putman step away from the pianola expectantly, waiting for her to return to him.

She did not.

Tavington felt his anger boiling as she went and sat between Bordon and MacIntyre, again ignoring him completely.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - I won't be able to write for ten whole days! But as soon as I am able I will update...

:-)

**Chapter 7 – The kiss**

The night was drawing to an end, and Margaret was starting to feel quite sleepy, from the wine, the food, the warmth of the room. It was time to leave, she felt. A few of the others had left already, the married couples. Tavington, Bordon and Evans remained; Mary had whispered excitedly to Margaret earlier in the evening, that Evans was the tall fair Dragoon that had caught her eye.

Margaret suspected Tavington would not leave until she did, she had felt his eyes on her all evening, and even her friends had noticed and made comment. Margaret had shrugged off their comments, not wanting to explain her feelings for him or what he had said to irritate her so - especially when Alice asked her. How could she tell her friend he had made rude comments about her playing? Especially when Alice already had a low opinion of him.

_He is not the man I want him to be, despite his handsome looks. I should put him out of my mind, I have enough suitors anyway, and Wilkins... Besides, he will be staying in my home!_

But she could not deny her instant attraction to him, and her joy that he returned her regard. When his fingers had traced along hers, she felt like he was leaving a trail of fire along her skin.

The wine and her tiredness had dulled her senses. If she had thought for one moment that Tavington would offer to escort her home, she would have called for her carriage.

"Are you well, Miss Putman?" Mr. Mason asked her.

"Hmmmm," Margaret sighed with a contented smile. "Time to go, I think!" She rose from her seat, and Mr. Mason turned to call over his shoulder for her carriage.

"As you said, Mr. Mason," Margaret halted him with a laugh, "I live only seven houses down. No, I will walk, I need some fresh air..."

"It's late, Miss Putman - no, I insist, you must not walk alone."

Margaret was about to argue with him, when Tavington stood up. Margaret eyed him warily, this was the Tavington she had encountered earlier that day, cool and stern with authority.

"Evans, Bordon and I will escort Miss Putman home," he said coolly. "I feel like a walk myself. Bordon, Evans?" Tavington turned to his men, who nodded.

"Truly, Sir, there is no need -"

"There is plenty of need, Miss Putman." Tavington said, his voice brisk. "It is too dangerous at night, I will not allow it."

Margaret sighed and nodded her acceptance. She wondered what he would do if she asked for her carriage now. Wary of his temper, she did not want to find out.

She made her farewells to her friends, waiting first as Evans' kissed a blushing Mary's hand before Mary climbed into her carriage. Margaret embraced Claire goodnight and even gave a startled Mr. Mason a quick kiss on the cheek, before taking a deep breath and turning to Tavington.

He offered her his arm, and she took it as he led the way out the gate.

"Where are Evans and Captain Bordon?" Margaret asked, looking back over her shoulder.

"They will wait here for me with the horses." Tavington replied. His voice showed no hint of embarrassment.

_What a schemer!_ She gave him a look of disapproval.

"Did you not consider that it might be better for me to walk alone, rather than risk cruel gossip, if I am seen on the street with a man at this hour?"

"Oh come now, you live only seven doors down." He replied with a soft scoff.

Margaret fell silent, biting back her reply. She wished he would quicken the pace, but he seemed intent to stroll along slowly, drawing their short walk out for as long as he could.

"It's a lovely street, very pretty with all the trees, and the lit lamps. It would have been nice to grow up here."

Margaret turned to him with surprise.

"What?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow, "Do you think I can not see the beauty in this place? It's a lovely country. I decided as soon as I arrived here that I would not be returning home after the war is over."

"It's just the people you dislike, then?" Margaret said with a sniff. Tavington blew out a vexed breath beside her, but made no reply.

They walked along in silence for a moment, and then Tavington tried again. "Do you have family? Brothers, sisters?"

"Two sisters, both much older." Margaret replied. "Elizabeth passed away five years ago, and Charlotte closed her house here, on this same street when..." Margaret paused, then changed what she had been about to say. "She moved to her plantation."

"Ah, a Patriot?" Tavington glanced at her. "That is what you meant, is it not - she moved because we took Charles Town."

Margaret chose not to answer.

"Are you very close?"

"I am much younger than my sisters, Elizabeth was already married when I was born. 'my Autumn flower', my mother used to call me, being such a late in life surprise. Charlotte married when I was young. Still, we're sisters and love one another dearly. Despite her Patriotic tendencies." Margaret's voice firmed and she held Tavington's eyes with challenge.

"And you? Do you share her 'Patriotic tendencies'?" Tavington was tense, his whole body waiting expectantly.

"And if I said I was a Patriot, what would you do? Arrest me?" Margaret asked with a smile, only half teasing.

"Certainly not." His gaze was frosty; this was no joke to him. "I would be less inclined to billet in your residence, however."

She sighed and squeezed his arm with reassurance.

"I am a Loyalist, Colonel. I do not think there are many Patriots left in Charles Town, and none of them would open their homes for Redcoats willingly..."

Tavington nodded and she felt his whole body relax as the tension left him. A sudden thought occurred to her, Gabriel - he is a Continental!

"What is it?" he asked, looking at her with concern.

_How could he know... he's so perceptive!_

"Well, there is something I should probably tell you..." She began, and she felt him tense again. "My own nephew... He joined the Continentals and has been serving these last four years. Families are being ripped apart, here in the Colonies, Colonel." She tried to explain when he said nothing. He continued his frosty silence, and seemed to be struggling with himself. Then he relaxed again, and gave her hand a pat.

"Did you grow up here, in Charles Town?" He asked,

_Safer waters... _Margaret was just as happy with the change of subject.

"Yes, on this very street. My parents left me the family home. It was horrible when you - the army that is - arrived. I know it was necessary, but how frightening and heart breaking it was. We could hear all the explosions and we barely slept for days, and... Well, it was awful. I'm glad it was over so quickly."

"You never thought of leaving, you could have gone with your sister?"

"Absolutely not. I will not leave Charles Town for anything." Margaret said adamantly, opening her gate, they had reached her house. "Unless, of course, the Patriots win the war... Then, I think, it will be off to England for me..." She finished in a worried voice.

"Hmm, England. Not a pleasant thought," Tavington said, following her up the front steps to her door. "I will just have to win the war for you."

He was smiling at her warmly and she found she was smiling back despite herself.

"Well, Colonel... here we are... Thank you for escorting me safely, along this perilous strip of road, though it be thwart with dangers, and with no regard to your own life... You're very gallant and brave!"

Tavington's hand reached out to caress a lose tendril of hair, he was smiling back at her, his eyes bright and warm. She felt herself flush, suddenly wishing he would kiss her.

"I think I might drop in and visit you tomorrow, Miss Putman, now that I know where you live..." He said playfully, and even his voice was warm.

_Oh Lord, I want him to kiss me..._

"Yes, do call on me, when you are not too busy keeping girls safe on these rowdy streets."

His smiled slightly, as he stared at her lips. Margaret tried to stifle a sigh when his fingers traced her shoulder.

_Oh thank goodness, he is going to kiss me..._

Tavington leaned forward, lightly brushing his lips against hers. She could not stifle her sigh this time, as she moved forward into his embrace, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt hot and flushed, thrills running down the length of her spine and back up again. She could not help but sigh against his mouth.

Wilkins' kisses were nothing compared to this.

Encouraged, Tavington's arms moved down her back, pressing her close as his lips kissed her top lip, then her bottom. His breathing was unsteady, as was hers. Suddenly he pulled her tightly to him, moaning against her mouth when she touched her tongue to his. They held there for some time, kissing gently, breathing heavily. Margaret could feel his hardness against her; she was finding it difficult not not moan, to keep still and not rock against him. They where the same height and he was pressed right against her centre. Just a little rocking and she knew she would be in heaven. Her stomach was full of butterfly flips, and her eyes rolled with pleasure.

Tavington broke the kiss and pulled back.

"We better stop my dear." He said raggedly.

"Oh, no, just a little more..." She pulled him back to her and he groaned.

"You will undo me," he murmured, but he kissed her back, more deeply than before, before pulling away once again with another groan.

"You really are determined to displease me, tonight, aren't you?" She breathed, lowering her head to his shoulder as he continued running his hands over her back.

"I will make it up to you," he whispered when his breathing was again under control. He tipped her head back up to his and placed one last gentle kiss on her lips, holding back when she tried to deepen the kiss again.

"Good night, Miss Putman." He said firmly.

She sighed and smiled, running her fingers gently across his cheek. "Good night, Colonel Tavington." She moved back from him and opened the door, gazing at him one last time before closing it. She held herself against the door, listening to his heavy footfalls clipping down the path and fading away.

_Oh good Lord, he is going to be living here!_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tavington strode back to the Mason's, Bordon and Evans where already waiting for him. He mounted his horse silently and they started their slow way back to the Chambers.

"So," Evans said on one side of Tavington. "Interesting night"

"Indeed," Bordon agreed on Tavington's other side.

"Miss Mary Thompson was quite the beauty; I look forward to seeing her again. She had such lovely eyes – as dark as night..." Evans mused.

"I thought Miss Aldridge was quite fine. Very accomplished." Tavington raised his eyebrows; Bordon was, evidently, another one who had no ear for music.

"And then there was Miss Putman..." Evans said, purposely not looking at Tavington.

Tavington rolled his eyes and remained silent.

"Yes, quite handsome." Bordon agreed. "Such a delight to talk with during dinner and she even sat with me after she sang. What a glorious voice! I was a lucky man to have her attentions tonight."

Tavington curled his lip, suddenly jealous and angry. "And what did Miss Putman talk to you about that was so delightful?" He kept his voice mild with an effort.

"Oh, all sorts of things. We discussed Major Brendon's actions today; she's still quite fired about it! I had to change the subject, she was becoming quite incensed."

"Understandable, she was nearly raped after all."

"So I asked her about her private life, she is quite old not to have a husband or even be a widow!"

Tavington remained quiet, trying not to show too much interest. He ignored Evans knowing smirk, as Bordon continued.

"Yes, nearly twenty four! Her birthday is coming up soon, she said. She was engaged but her fiancé succumbed to illness, a few weeks before their wedding. According to Miss Aldridge, Miss Putman is now being courted by several men, one of them is quite dedicated in his affections and everyone is expecting her to accept a marriage proposal from him any time now."

Tavington gave Bordon a hard stare, disliking what he was hearing.

"Come now, Tavington," Evans said on his other side. "You cannot expect a beauty like that not to have serious suitors. She is wealthy, young, accomplished, she has a very fine figure and her hair – any man would want to run his fingers through those golden locks. And her bosom - "

"Are you done admiring her, Evans?" Tavington asked coolly.

"Ah, yes…" Evans replied quickly.

Tavington was quiet for the rest of the journey back to the Chambers residence, wondering about Miss Putman's 'other' suitors, especially the one who was going to propose.

He was laying in bed when his door opened and when Mrs. Chambers slipped through, he did not send her away.

She slipped her clothes off silently, and climbed between the sheets, and Tavington reached for her, pinning her to the bed. Without preamble, he opened her legs, and positioned himself between her thighs, nudged at her entrance and slipped in easily.

Mrs. Chambers moved and writhed under him, stifling her moans as she met his frenzied bucking with abandon. He bit and sucked at her neck and breasts, leaving dark purplish blemishes. She squealed and moaned all the more, not wanting him to stop.

Tavington receded into his thoughts of Miss Putman.

_"Just don't throw me up against the wall and we'll get along fine." Miss Putman said, and then blushed. Tavington smirked and placed his goblet down on the table, rising to walk over to Miss Putman. She stared up at him with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. _

_"You are so beautiful," he said warmly, sitting beside her on the chaise. She turned to him expectantly and he reached for her, brushing his lips against hers. Their tongues met, and Tavington could take it no more._

_"Turn around," he commanded, and she complied eagerly, holding herself still while he unbuttoned her bodice. He kept working until she turned to him and lay back on the chaise, her lovely breasts bare. He took a nipple into his mouth, circling it gently with his tongue; his member ached when she groaned._

_"Oh, Colonel, please... Just a little more..." He moved to her other breast while he lifted her skirts. "Oh yes, oh, take me. I am ready for you, I have such a need!" Tavington ripped at her stockings and then there she was, laying before him in naked glory. He wasted no time, mounting her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He opened her legs and slid in easily, kissing her mouth deeply as he started to thrust inside her. He felt her maiden head give way as his member battered against it and then he was all the way inside her, he could not be any deeper. Tavington did not hesitate, with a harsh growl of pleasure, he plunged into her again and again, while she gripped his neck and groaned her enjoyment. They were both slick with sweat. He lifted one of her gloriously long legs over his shoulder and realized he could go in deeper after all. She moaned and thrashed beneath him with her need to release. _

Finally, he moaned a long low moan and spilled his seed inside Mrs. Chambers. He rolled off her, spent.

"Oh, Colonel, how I am going to miss you. Perhaps I can visit you – where will you be billeted?"

It took a while for Tavington to recover from his powerful climax. When he was himself again, he scowled and shook his head.

"Do not start being ridiculous again, you cannot visit me. As for where I will be billeted, the residence belongs to Miss Putman." He nearly sighed out loud, saying her name alone had a huge effect on him.

Mrs. Chambers sat up suddenly to stare down at Tavington.

"Miss Putman?" She asked, Tavington thought her voice sounded full of hate.

"That is correct." He said in a clipped voice. "Off you go, time for you to go back to your husband, Mrs. Chambers."

"Miss Putman." Mrs. Chambers repeated, making no move to leave.

"As I said. Why, do you know her?" He asked coldly, hoping to learn more about the woman he was quickly becoming obsessed with.

"She stole my Alexander! Right out from under me! Here she was, all set to marry Wilkins until their fall out, and who knows what that was about? Not I! But as soon as it happened, she stole Alexander and the next thing anyone knew they were engaged! He should have proposed to me – not to that blonde haired haughty chit! And now she is taking you!"

Tavington regarded her cooly, before grabbing her and pressing her to the bed. He held her down with a painful grip. "Lower your voice, Madam!" He hissed.

She was breathing heavily beneath him, her eyes open wide with fear. She started to weep.

"I am stuck with her useless cousin for a husband, because of her!" She said through her tears. "My only solace is that she can't have Alexander now either, I was glad when he died! Glad of the tears she cried! A whole year and a half of spurning all other suitors, because of her broken heart. What a sop she is! And now she has Wilkins courting her all over again, just like before! But I had my revenge, I bedded him, in her own house, under her very nose! If you think she will come to your bed, think again. She won't! She'd probably squeal with outrage if you so much as kissed her cheek! She's so cold! She will not warm your bed, no Sir!"

Tavington had heard enough, a cold rage surged through him. Mrs. Chambers squealed when he raised his hand and slapped her.

He pushed her out of the bed and threw her clothes at her before she could dress herself, and dragged her to the door, shoving her into the hallway.

He locked the door behind her. He had no idea how much time passed, as he lay staring at the ceiling with fury and jealousy over Miss Putman's suitors and Mrs. Chambers snide remarks.

_The Chamber's are Miss Putman's cousins! I have bedded her cousin's wife! _

That was not something he wanted Miss Putman finding out.

He heard the door handle jiggle and then came a soft knock but he ignored it, not wanting to couple with pretty Betty the maid. It did not even give him satisfaction when he heard Betty go next door to Evans room; normally he would be well pleased at being chosen first. He lay there listening to the faint sounds of their lovemaking and his member stiffened despite himself. When he heard Betty leave Evans room, Tavington opened his door and beckoned her in.

She pouted and turned away from him, he had stung her pride with his rejection. Before she could take two more steps up the hallway away from him, he marched out and grabbed her, in no mood to play her foolish games tonight.

"Are you really going to tell me no?" He said coolly. Even completely naked he was imposing. He did not care that he was being intimidating, Betty had a wild nature and Tavington knew it would add to her excitement.

Betty shook her head, her eyes mingled with fear and desire.

"Why was your door locked, if you wanted me?" She asked him, as he escorted her back to his room.

"To keep your mistress out. I have had quite enough of her. Besides, Evans took care of you, I could hear you through the wall."

"You could?" Betty looked over at the wall. "Do you think he'll hear us?" She asked, her smile lust filled and naughty.

"I am almost sure of it. Turn around."

When Betty was bent over the bed, Tavington mounted her from behind, holding her waist securely. Once inside of her he grunted and thrust quickly, staring straight ahead.

Betty moaned and bit Tavington's arm. He ignored the pain of her bite, she liked to do it, and so he let her. He and Evans both had bite marks on their bodies, courtesy of Betty. She thrust back and moaned as he spilled his seed inside her, then collapsed against the bed.

Tavington didn't send her away, choosing to let her sleep with him so he could couple with her during the night as he needed. Betty climbed under the covers and slept with her head on his chest.

The next morning Tavington woke early and had the Dragoons ready to leave after breakfast. He had had an unfortunate encounter with Mr. Chambers, who demanded to know which of the Dragoons his wife had bedded to get those purple blemishes on her neck and breasts. Mrs. Chambers was in the parlor – he could hear her crying, her husband was threatening to put her aside.

Tavington had told Mr. Chambers he had no idea who Mrs. Chambers lover was, but he vouched that it was not one of his Dragoons.

When he finally made his escape, he did so with a smile – well pleased that Mrs. Chambers was in such a sorry state, after the venomous things she had said about Miss Putman.

When he and his Dragoons rode out to Miss Putman's, Tavington did not look back


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, I've managed to fit in another chapter (it was already mostly written) but that is it now - for ten days! I don't know **_how_** I'll cope!

:-(

Chapter Eight - Claire's Advice

Margaret spent a restless night, tossing and turning. When she did manage to sleep, it was to dream about Tavington, dreams that had her waking up, hot and covered with sweat, her nightdress clinging to her slick body. She felt such need, the like of which she had never felt before, even with her beloved Alexander. Each time she woke, she caressed herself between her thighs lightly, fingers gliding over the place that ached so wonderfully. She felt no relief, though the caress did feel nice.

Light was already awake when light started twinkling through her windows, and Maisy came in to help her get ready for the day. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could help her sort through her feelings, the turmoil inside her. Charlotte was gone and Aunt Prudence had not returned - though Margaret did not feel she could talk to her spinster aunt about Colonel Tavington in any case. Grabbing her cloak, she headed out to breakfast with the Mason's.

She forgot about all the Redcoat officers residing at Claire's house, MacIntyre seemed both surprised and pleased to be breakfasting with her, she desperately wanted to talk with Claire, but Margaret sat with MacIntyre, chatting politely. Claire had already said she would speak with Margaret after breakfast so she tried to be patient.

"It was a lovely evening, wasn't it MacIntyre - the Masons know how to throw a dinner party!"

"For a certainty! Though the highlight of my night was hearing you sing, Miss Putman. You have a wonderful voice; I wish you had sung more than one song!"

"Perhaps next time," Margaret said with a pleased smile.

"Next time... I was wondering..." MacIntyre paused. "Would you mind if... Ah that is... If I called upon you sometimes? We could stroll through the park or the square?"

Margaret reassessed her opinion of the officer. He was young and handsome, polite and shy. It seemed to take him great courage to ask her permission.

"I think I would enjoy that, MacIntyre. Though, you should know that I do have a couple gentlemen callers already..." Margaret said quietly, she was always honest about her other suitors.

"Of course! I thought you must... You are so very beaut -" he cut off abruptly, eyes going wide and his face turning crimson when he realized what he was saying.

She laughed and touched his hand gently. "Thank you, MacIntyre; a woman can never hear that often enough, I assure you."

Breakfast was done, and the men were going about their business. Claire gave her little Amelia to her nanny and led the way to the small, pretty sitting room.

There had been a small pox epidemic in Charles Town in recent months, but to Claire's relief Amelia had not been affected. The worst of the epidemic was over now, there were less and less cases of people being infected.

"Well now! What did you want to speak to me about so urgently, my dear?" Claire asked as she sat with her cup of tea.

Margaret felt oddly reticent now they were alone, not sure what to say. She stood up and strolled around the room restlessly before finally blurting out her concerns and fears, and her confused feelings for Tavington.

"Oh Claire, I don't know where to begin! It's Colonel Tavington. He has my head in such a spin and he will be living under my roof! He is so handsome, so charming! I can't stop thinking about him, and last night when he walked me home he kissed me. Lord, Claire, I've never been kissed like that before - not by Wilkins and not by Alexander! My whole body was on fire, thrills up and down my spine. I didn't want him to stop; indeed when he tried to end the kiss I grabbed him for more! I barely slept through the night, and dreamed about him when I did! He will be living in my **home**; I don't know how I will bear it!"

"Oh my... I think you better start at the beginning..."

Margaret finally sat down and told Claire everything, in detail. Major Brendon's attack, her first encounter with Tavington. How he had told her she was beautiful when she smiled and then their hand holding before and after dinner. Finally the walk home and the kiss.

Claire was thoughtful for a while, sitting back and regarding her younger friend. "I don't have to tell you what a difficult position you are in, do I? If Tavington only has seduction on his mind, it would be your ruin... You would lose Wilkins forever and your reputation..."

"I know!" Margaret wailed. "What am I to do?"

Claire sighed. "Margie, this is why we have been encouraging you to marry! You are a woman grown - and you are yearning for things that you should only experience within the safety of matrimony... You must be strong, steadfast! Do not do anything more with Tavington than you would with your other suitors."

Margaret felt like crying. "I know, you are right, it is just so hard! Claire, I've never felt this way before, and it has come on so quickly, so unexpectedly! I want to feel his hands on me!" She said quietly, hanging her head with shame.

Claire was at her side in an instant, wrapping her in her arms. "Do not encourage a dalliance with Tavington, Margie. He is billeted in you home, what if he breaks your heart? You would have to see him everyday... What if he thinks you are offering more than you are willing to give? And if he takes your virginity? I know where this is leading Margie! It truly could mean your ruin! You would have to leave Charles Town to get away from the gossip! You will know what to do, my dear... You are an intelligent young woman; just don't lose your head!"

:::::::::

Margaret's stomach was a flutter with butterflies as she sat waiting for Colonel Tavington to arrive with six officers from his Green Dragoons.

She knew Claire was right, and so resolved to treat with Tavington cordially, politely. She had enough suitors to keep her attention, and then she had her ledgers to attend, she did her own accounts and managed her own investments, though Wilkins helped her more often than not. Then there was the running of the house, which was so much more time consuming with so many extra people. She had five maids to look after now. And though the Crown paid their wages, she was in charge of them.

Tavington should be busy himself, with his military duties. She would dine with the Dragoons then retire to her rooms in the evenings; it should not be too difficult to avoid him.

Her pulse raced when she heard the sound of their approach, the horses clipping in the street, making their way to the back of the house. She made her way to the parlor and sat on a chaise, opening a book to help her pretend indifference.

Jonah entered the parlor. "Miss Putman, Colonel Tavington has arrived."

"Send him through, please Jonah."

Tavington strode in, alone. Margaret's heart leapt, her stomach did flips when she saw the small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

_Lord, he is going to make this hard on me!_

"Good morning, Colonel, where are your men?" She asked him, as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Out in the yard, getting the horses settled." Tavington sat down beside her, uninvited, close enough to touch. He had been thinking about Miss Putman all morning and he reached for her hand, needing to touch her soft skin.

"Well, I suppose I should show you to your room. I'm not giving you the same room as Major Brendon's, the poxy bastard's..." Margaret said, trying to keep her nervousness from showing. She did not think she succeeded. She pulled her hand from his grasp and rose before her resolve shattered and she fell into his embrace.

"I think I'm going to have to teach you some new curses." Tavington said, rising with her. He followed her upstairs, to his new rooms. They were far more richly appointed than his single room at the Chambers.

"This room is much nicer than the Major's, you even have a small anteroom, with a desk and a couple comfortable chairs." She opened the door, leading the way through. Tavington deliberately shut the door behind them.

Margaret noticed Tavington look about his new surroundings appreciatively, all of the rooms in the house were richly appointed, but this one was equal to her own. Margaret's rooms were exactly the same as these, and they were separated by the parlor in between them. She led him through to the bedroom, then onto the balcony.

"The balcony extends across the whole front of the house, but if you keep this screen in place you'll have some privacy. It can get a little noisy, you can hear people on the street and in the Square, but it never gets rowdy. My room exits onto the balcony as well, at the far end, with the parlor between both our rooms. It's really quite nice out here at night in summer."

"No doubt," Tavington murmured, stepping closer to her. He leaned in toward her and closed his eyes, drawing in the scent of her hair.

"Ah..." Margaret swallowed, her resolve wavering. "Dinner will be served at 5.30," she said, stepping back from him, returning to his room. "If you or your men cannot make it, my cook will need to be informed." Margaret continued on toward the door, but was stopped when Tavington turned her and put his arms around her waist. He was smiling warmly as he pressed her close.

"Colonel," she breathed, "I can hear your men in the hall..."

"They will not disturb us," he whispered, leaning down to run his lips along her neck. "I have been thinking of you all night, Miss Putman." He said warmly between his slow explorations of her neck.

She closed her eyes and quivered at the wonderful sensation, her knees feeling weak.

"Why aren't you putting your arms around me, my sweetheart?" he asked, and then kissed her neck again. He had thought he had sensed something different about her, a reluctance, from the moment he had arrived. Now he was sure, she had kept moving away from him and was acting nervously.

_My sweetheart, Oh Lord..._ Margaret thought.

"Because..." She breathed. "You're going to be living here... We shouldn't..." She sighed with enjoyment; the world seemed to disappear when his lips found hers. There was just the two of them, and the kisses. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body close to his and Tavington smiled in triumph.

The sound of Maisy's voice in the hall broke the spell.

Margaret gasped and pulled away, gently prying herself from Tavington's arms. She turned her back on him and continued breathlessly, "Please come to me, with any complaints or requests."

She ignored his frown, as she entered the the anteroom and continued in a stronger voice, "I have hired some new maids to clean the rooms; your men will need to be out of the rooms between 11 and 12 o'clock, no exceptions. The maids are my responsibility and I expect your men to behave as gentlemen around them. I have a separate parlor downstairs where I work on my accounts and meet with my visitors, but your men are free to use the larger parlor downstairs and this one next door. I'd appreciate my privacy when I am in the little parlor with my friends - "

"Are you quite finished?" Tavington snapped sharply behind her. She turned to face him with surprise, and then took a step back at the cold fury in his eyes.

"Sir, I think my requests are reasonable - " She began, trying to keep the quaver from her voice.

"They are, and they will be met." Tavington said crisply, stepping close to regard her coolly. "I admit I had hoped for a warmer reception from you." His eyes penetrated as they bored into hers.

She stared at him in consternation, and then hardened her resolve. Margaret turned away and stepped out into the hall.

"Lunch will be served at 12 o'clock. If there is nothing else for now?"

She held his glittering eyes for a moment and when he made no reply she walked down the hall to her own rooms, where she collapsed on a chaise.

_There, I did it, it is done._ _It is better this way. Oh Lord, if it's for the best, then why do I feel like weeping?_

:::::::::

Tavington was in a foul mood for the rest of the morning, and found he was looking for things he could make complaint about. Unfortunately Miss Putman knew how to run a house and there was nothing he could find fault with. The chests arrived and after Tavington unpacked, he went in search of Evans.

"She refused me!" He stormed, pacing around Evans smaller room. "She wanted me as badly as I did her, last night! What has changed? Is it something to do with that suitor of hers, this Wilkins?"

Evans lay back on his bed, watching Tavington in his rage.

_I've never seen him like this, not over a woman..._ Evans thought. _I hope Miss Putman keeps out of his way until his temper cools._

Tavington had gone to great lengths to seduce women before, but this was more like obsession. He normally shrugged rebuttals off and increased his efforts - the challenge is what made the chase all the more enjoyable.

"Maybe she does not want to seem too eager," Evans suggested confidently. "Come man. You know how to play the game!"

But Tavington shook his head, angrily. "There is more to this..." He growled. He had been chasing women for the better part of ten years, when he moved to London and started the sport, competing with Evans for the ladies attentions. If anything, as he grew older, he became more practiced, more adept at the art of seduction.

He could hear Miss Putman's laugh float up to him from her office, her little parlor. Vexed that she could sound so merry, he turned on his heel and made his way through the house to her private sitting room, Evans following along behind him.

"Tavington," Evans hissed in protest. "We'll end up having to move from here, next! And I like it here!"

They stopped at the doorway, when they heard a male voice. Tavington stared coldly at his friend, who stood fidgeting, worried they would be caught eavesdropping.

_That better be Mr. Simms!_ Tavington growled to himself.

"Truly, James, I am fine!" Miss Putman was saying. Tavington glared coldly through Evans, no longer seeing him. "Sir Clinton took the situation in hand, and had that horrible man removed right away. Colonel Tavington was very supportive and I feel so much safer now that the Dragoons are here and the Major is gone."

"You should have come to me, Margie. Mason said you asked if you could move in with them, so I know you were trying to get away. I could have helped you, before he attacked you. Lord, are you sure you are okay?"

"I am." Came her emphatic reply. "There is no need to worry so!"

"How can I not? When Mr. Simms told me... Lord, Margie... You were nearly raped!"

There was a long silence, and then the two Dragoons could hear quiet weeping. There was movement in the room, then the man's consoling voice was saying, "there there, I am sorry I bought it all back to you. You silly thing, always trying to be so strong... I think it's your strength I admire most about you, truly."

Tavington realized the man must have had his arms around Miss Putman. He took a purposeful stride forward, and then turned his cold scowl on Evans when his friend grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Enough, William, you go too far. Stop this at once, come away!" Evans whispered urgently. Tavington held Evans gaze sternly, finally nodding and walking away.

::::::::::::

"Where is Miss Putman?" Tavington asked as Jonah turned to leave the dining room. He was sitting to lunch with the Dragoons, at the head of the table and Evans and Bordon flanked him. Evans had been chatting to Bordon animatedly about Miss Mary Thompson's many attributes.

"She has gone to the park across the square; I believe she is having a picnic lunch today. Will that be all?"

Tavington nodded curtly, and Evans chuckled under his breath as Jonah left.

"Looks like you have your work cut for you, Tavington. This one is no Mrs. Chambers, to fall into your bed!"

Tavington curled his lip, "Give me time."

"What is it about this woman? She's not the first beauty to have caught your eye Tavington! Relax, she'll come around eventually. They always do!"

Tavington said nothing, and Evans continued with a wistful smile. "I am going to make a play for her little friend. Miss Thompson is a pretty little thing, and was very friendly last night, if you get my drift,"

"You bedded her?" Tavington asked, surprised despite himself.

"No, just flirted... But she was very responsive... Hopefully she will visit Miss Putman; they are, apparently, close friends."

Tavington shrugged, losing interest. Evans eyebrows rose with surprise, usually when Evans set his eye on a pretty, Tavington took great enjoyment in pursuing her as well.

"Are you sick, Tavington? Shall I fetch a doctor?" Evans quipped, and Bordon laughed.

::::::::::::::::::

It was late the following morning, and Tavington was leaving his rooms to make his way to the Assembly Hall - he had a meeting with Sir Clinton. He was closing his door behind him, when he saw Miss Putman disappearing around a corner, speaking quietly to a maid. He followed, trying to replace his irritation with charm; he would not win her over with anger. She left the maid after giving her some instructions, then paused, startled to see him waiting for her.

"Colonel," she said breathlessly. "What brings you here? Did you need to speak with me?"

Tavington said nothing as he stepped closer and put his hands on her waist. She sighed and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "Colonel..."

"Hmm...?" He inhaled her hair, his lips close to, but not quite touching her neck. He could feel her quiver beneath his touch.

"Just tell me why, Sweetheart?" he murmured, his lips almost touching hers. "Why do you keep yourself from me? I know it is hurting you too..."

"It's hurting you?" She said with consternation, "I never meant..."

He kissed her, and she whimpered against his mouth, and put her arms around his waist, returning the kiss with passion.

"Is it because of your suitors?" he asked between kisses. "Has one proposed?"

_Say no,_ he thought, the idea threatened to send him into a fury._ I do not know what I will do to you if you say yes..._

She shook her head as she brushed her lips against his.

"Then why?" he could not keep the exasperated edge from his voice, and it broke the spell.

She pulled back from him, straightening her skirts with shaking hands. "Because you live here, now. It would be improper."

"I will not take liberties, Miss Putman, I am not Major Brendon. I would not push you to do anything you do not wish to do. I have more control than that."

"Well I don't!" Miss Putman cried desparately, there were tears standing in her eyes. "Can't you see? You are not the one I'm worried about!"

He let her push past him, too astonished to stop her.

For the next three days Miss Putman avoided him, and he started to suspect her maids where helping her. She went no where in the house unescorted, it was always with her Maisy or another maid. They reminded him of sentries standing at their posts, when he saw them idling in the hallways.

He saw her disappear into the cellar one afternoon and he had to stop himself from following her to the place she had been attacked by Brendon, not wanting to bring back those memories. At meal times, she sat at the other end of the dining table from him, speaking politely to the Dragoons, and stealing glances at him, but she never spent the evening with them.

When she left the house it was usually with her friends, or her suitors, much to Tavington's dislike.

His own duties kept him away as well; he spent most of his time with Sir Clinton and the other officers, going over battle plans and the like. Lord Cornwallis was based at the forks of the Wando River trying to gain control of the area and was dealing with various, unorganised bands of rebel militia. He had been asking Sir Clinton for support, and Tavington knew the Green Dragoons would be sent out to Cornwallis' aid soon.

Tavington had stood and witnessed Major Brendon's flogging dispassionately. When it was over, he approached the beaten man and released his bonds himself.

"You will be aboard ship tomorrow, along with your men. You will not return to the Colonies, and you will be lucky to keep your commission as Major in England. You should thank the good Lord above that you are not dead, Brendon."

"We rise and we fall, Tavington." The man said through his pain. "You would do well to remember that."

Tavington had curled his lip into a sneer and walked away.

He had had enough of Miss Putman avoiding him, and tonight he meant to do something about it.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - more fluffy romantic stuff.

:-)

Tavington will be riding out of Charles Town after the next few chapters, as will James Wilkins. I will be dealing with historical fact as much as I can, then, so any input is welcome! Especially if I get it wrong...

Thanks for reading. I do not own the Patriot.

**Chapter Nine - What Tavington did about it**

Margaret sat at her dresser in her shift and Maisy stood behind her, freeing the intricate braids in Margaret's hair. It had been days since her encounter in the hallway with Tavington, she pressed her fingers against her lips gently and closed her eyes, remembering how wonderful it felt to have him kiss her.

She had felt such despair since then, he was all she could think about. Each time she saw him, she wanted to fall into his embrace, wanted him to wrap her in his arms. At night, as she lay awake, she had to resist the very strong urge to go to his room, to sleep with him in his bed. It was torture, they were sleeping so close to each other, their rooms separated only by the parlor. No one would know she was with him...

She had sought solace with her suitors, but they were not Tavington. Wilkins kisses paled in comparison to Tavington's, the thrills she felt along her spine, while in James' arms, were a poor imitation.

"All done Miss Margaret," Maisy said, after brushing Margaret's hair until it shone. She stepped away to tidy up the pins and ribbons. "Can I get you anything before I retire?"

"A strong brandy?" Margaret joked. "No, Maisy. I am fine, sleep well."

Maisy put another log on the fire, then quietly left the room, shutting the door closed behind her.

Margaret slipped into bed and was just getting comfortable, fluffing her pillow and arranging her blankets when her door opened and Tavington walked in. She stared at him in shock, as he made his way over to the chair she had been sitting in, and started pulling off his boots.

She was suddenly very much aware of how scantily dressed she was, wearing only her shift. Her hair was down her back and over her shoulders in waves – not even Alexander had seen her in such a state of undress!

Tavington said nothing, as he started unclasping the belts on his Redcoat, then he removed the coat and draped it carefully over the back of the chair. Margaret gasped, finally finding her voice when Tavington stood up and started to unbutton his breeches.

"Colonel! What in the world do you think you are doing?" She could not help but stare - he cut such a fine figure, he still wore his shirt - he had not attempted to take it off, but it was open down the front of his chest. His hair was unbound, still wet from his bath and it framed his face so handsomely.

"I am getting ready for sleep." He said simply, as he draped his breeches over the back of the chair on top of his Redcoat. "You will need to make some room for my clothes in your wardrobe, I do not like laying them over chairs."

He was speaking as though it was perfectly natural to be getting ready for bed in her room. Margaret saw he was still wearing his linen undershorts, as he made his way over to the bed.

"Colonel Tavington," Margaret said faintly, as Tavington pulled the coverlets back and climbed in. "You are not going to sleep in here - you have your own room."

He ignored her and plumped a pillow, leaning back with one arm hooked under his head.

"You said I should come to you if I have any complaints. My room is too cold, the fire is never hot enough. And the pillows are much more comfortable here."

Margaret stared at him in astonishment - she knew this to be untrue, he was just making excuses.

"This room is much more to my liking," he continued.

He was making no move toward her; Margaret did not feel threatened by him, as he closed his eyes for sleep.

"Colonel," she whispered, breathing hard. It was an effort to speak, he looked so handsome laying there beside her, close enough to touch. "Please return to your own room."

"No."

"No?" She shoved at him, as though she could push him out of her bed. He looked up at her in surprised, then took hold of her arms gently, and pulled her to him. Margaret's breath caught as his strong arms came about her, holding her securely.

"Do you have any idea what torture this has been for me?" Tavington asked, and although he was exasperated, he began to stroke her hair and shoulders gently, . "I have barely seen you in days! I know you are as tortured as I, and there is no reason for it to continue. We are both busy during the day, it seems so I am moving into your room."

When he felt her tense, he hurried on quickly to reassure her, "to sleep only, Sweetheart. I will not take liberties, and I will keep enough control for the both of us, even if you cannot."

She shook her head but could not seem to make herself pull herself out of his grasp. Margaret laid her head on his chest and said, "This is insanity."

"Perhaps. But it is the only way I can see to fix our problem. Unless you insist I leave, right now? I will go; you have just to say the words."

Margaret shook her head again, but she could not say the words, she did not have the willpower to reject Tavington again. So she held her silence as she shuffled her body closer to the warmth of his and placed her hand on his chest.

"Good night, Sweetheart," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Margaret laughed with incredulity, but replied in kind.

"Good night Colonel." She ran her fingers in light circles over his bare chest where his shirt was open.

They were both dozing off when Margaret roused enough to say, "If your men breathe a word of this..."

"They will not," he assured her. "Sleep now, Sweetheart..."

::::::::::::::

One day blurred into the next, as the Dragoons settled into a routine. Only Evans and Bordon knew where Tavington was spending his nights, but Tavington assured Margaret that they would hold their silence. Margaret was concerned of what the two Officers would think of her, and Tavington told her he had made it clear to the men that nothing was happening.

That was not entirely true, of course. He kept his promise and did not take liberties, but Margaret would lie in his arms for hours while he kissed her, and they would both breathe raggedly, bodies pressed so closely, needing more. Night time was bliss and torture for them both.

It was an exercise in self control but on the third night, Tavington failed in his resolve. Margaret had been pressing herself against his leg, and she was whimpering so deliciously while he kissed her. Her ardor got the better of him, and he was not even embarrassed when he pulled his member free of the light linen pants he wore to her bed, and started to run his own fingers along his length as he continued to kiss her.

Margaret pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily, to watch him with fascination. He seemed to enjoy her eyes on him, and he spilled his seed quickly with a groan. Afterward he went back to kissing her gently, his need taken care of.

The next night he pulled his member free, she shocked him by placing her fingers lightly on his length. She had only ever done this with Alexander, and they had been engaged, but she needed to feel him, wanted to pleasure him.

He shook his head, ready to pry her hand free. "We have to keep our control sweetheart..." He murmured.

"I just want to feel you," she whispered, "we won't lose control just doing this, surely? "

Tavington sighed heavily and lay back, resolving to stop her if he had to - if the need to couple with her became too great. He began to groan as her hand moved up and down his length. She squeezed him tightly when she felt his member pulse, and he grunted when his seed shot forth.

"You naughty thing!" He teased her, "You've done that before!"

"Only with my fiancé, I swear! And only for the last couple months before we were due to marry!"

He laughed, "I know, Sweetheart, don't worry so much."

She smiled and relaxed, sure he did not think poorly of her.

They both went about their duties during the day, though Margaret saw how vexed Tavington became when she continued to see her suitors. He said nothing to her, but she was starting to understand his moods and he was always dark and brooding on those days.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – An argument with Tavington, a flight from London**

It had been a long while since she had had any news from her family, and Margaret was becoming worried - especially for Gabriel. Though still worrying, Gabriel's silence was understandable, it was difficult for him to write from camp and she doubted a Continental soldier could her a letter to her in British held Charles's town. Her latest letter written to Charlotte and to Benjamin remained unanswered, though Margaret reasoned it had not been so long ago that Charlotte left for her plantation, barely two or three weeks. Margaret decided to send a letter to her Aunt Prudence in Newport, in the hope she may have received news of them.

She had not written to Aunt Prudence in some time, and after asking after her family, she told her Aunt of some of the things that had happened lately, of Major Brendon, of Colonel Tavington, she could not help but write of him with warmth when describing how handsome he was, how amiable. She also asked her Aunt if she would be moving back to Charles Town, now that the siege was over. Margaret secretly hoped she would not, knowing it would put a stop to Tavington sleeping in Margaret's room.

Aunt Prudence's reply came fairly quickly; barely a week had passed when Margaret entered her little parlor and found the letter waiting for her on her desk.

_Dear Margaret_

_Thank you for your letter, it has been too long since I have seen you and I worry for you so, being in Charles Town right now. No, my dear, I will not be moving back to Charles Town, the journey is such a difficult tiring one and I am getting old, but I would like to extend in an invitation for you to come and live here with me in Newport. It would be so much safer, the two of us living together._

_I was troubled to read of the horrible incident with that Major Brendon, and am pleased he was removed so quickly. I am glad your complaint was taken seriously and that swift action was taken._

_I have not heard from Benjamin in some time now, and I do worry for him, living on the Santee where they say the fighting is still happening. And now Charlotte is back there as well, it is very frightening. If I receive word I will pass the tidings on to you immediately._

_My dear, please let me speak my mind. I could tell by your letter that you have become quite infatuated with Colonel Tavington. It disturbs me to no end that he is staying in your home, and that you are developing feelings for him. I have heard many terrible things about the man, he has quite an unsavory reputation. Colonel Tavington is, by all accounts, a very dangerous, ruthless man._

_I know that Wilkins will propose to you soon. Of course I do not like the man much, if I am honest, but I think he is a good man for all that, for a Tory. Please consider him seriously; and put Tavington out of your mind._

_Your Aunt_

_Miss Prudence Stevens_

Margaret was taken by surprise by her Aunt's warning, it was the first time anyone had spoken against Tavington, for more than his aloof behavior toward Colonials, in any case. And her words concerning Wilkins irritated her, she had not known her Aunt did not regard Wilkins, she certainly had not given any indication of ill feelings toward Wilkins while she was living with Margaret.

_James is a decent man for a 'Tory'? I am a 'Tory' too! I do not mention anything about her being a Patriot!_

She let out a disparaging snort at the word Tory, as Jonah, her butler opened the door to the parlor.

"Miss Putman? Colonel Tavington wishes to speak with you. Will you see him here?"

"Yes, Jonah, please send him in." Margaret replied. Despite sleeping in her bed this last week and a half, Tavington still gave her the privacy she had asked for, when she was alone in her little parlor. "Please bring some refreshments as well; he will be hungry after his meeting with Sir Clinton."

_Oh, he is so handsome,_ she thought when Tavington entered the parlor, and butterflies danced and whirled in her stomach. _I will not swoon_.

Tavington, a small smile on his lips, strode forward and took her into his arms.

"You are not busy, are you, Sweetheart?" He asked softly, then brushed his lips against hers.

"No, Colonel," Margaret breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning his kisses. "I was just reading through my correspondence."

Tavington considered her coolly, his demeanor suddenly tense. "More love letters, I suppose? From Mr. Wilkins...? Or some other colonial..."

Margaret bristled. She was already annoyed with Aunt Prudence, and now had to deal with Tavington's jealousy.

"How fare's MacIntyre?" she asked tartly, pulling away from Tavington's embrace._ Wilkins is not my only suitor, and no - they are not just Colonials_. "He has called on me a few times this week, but I have not heard from him for a day or two now."

Tavington's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"He has visited you?" His voice was suddenly cold, threatening.

"Of course. He promised he would, we got along well that night at the Mason's. How does he fare? I hope nothing has befallen him."

Tavington scowled, as though he wished something _would_ befall MacIntyre.

"He seemed well the last time I saw him, this morning as a matter of fact." Tavington's voice was clipped and crisp.

"I am glad; you will have to tell him I am quite vexed with him. Here he is, safe and well and has not so much as sent a note!"

"I am not a messenger, Miss Putman." Tavington said coolly, moving suddenly to walk over to the window.

"I am sorry, Colonel Tavington. Have I said something to offend?" Margaret continued in the same tone. He did not answer her.

Jonah entered with the refreshments, sandwiches and tea, he closed the door quietly behind him after setting the tray down on the side board. Margaret walked over to pour herself a cup of tea.

"Tea, Colonel?"

"What do you discuss, with MacIntyre when he comes to visit?" Tavington asked, ignoring her question. Margaret poured him tea, anyway.

"Sugar? I take one; I always find it so much nicer with a little sweetness, don't you?" She asked.

Suddenly he was behind her, gripping her around the waist as he turned her to face him. She grunted indelicately as he pressed her against the wall, pinning her there with his weight.

"Sir!" She protested, furiously. She pushed her hands against his chest to no avail, he was far stronger than her. "Release me _now_, Colonel!"

He did not budge, and she quieted under his cool hard stare, feeling fearful. His eyes were so cold, so menacing

"What do you discuss with MacIntyre when he comes to visit?" He repeated his question in a deceptively quiet voice. "Do you talk at all, or…"

Margaret's eyes widened with indignation. "No, Sir, he is far more gentlemanly than you!"

_He doesn't cover me with his body, kiss me until I feel I must surely faint…_

Tavington stared at her with those cold eyes, and she quailed under his scrutiny.

"Colonel, let me go." Margaret hated the pleading in her voice.

"Do you regard him?" He asked her quietly, still holding her pinned to the wall.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

He held her gaze for a moment more before releasing her and walking across the room to sit on the chaise.

"One sugar." Tavington said calmly. Margaret nodded and finished making their tea, finding her composure while performing the common place task. The cup barely rattled on its saucer when she handed it to him.

"Sit with me," Tavington said with cold authority, when she started to move toward another chair. She would have bristled at being commanded so, if she was not so unsettled. She sat beside him, placing her cup of tea on the table, then staring down at her hands.

Margaret started to feel uncomfortable with the silent, cool way he was staring at her.

"Have you had any word from home?" She asked, to break that icy silence. "Have you kept in contact with anyone, do you have family?"

"My Mother and my sister write frequently." He replied shortly, his voice was still cold.

"I did not know you had a sister, you have never mentioned your family."

Tavington rolled his eyes, the cup made a loud rattle on the saucer as he placed them irritably on the table.

"You wish to talk, do you?" He said, a flash of impatience crossing his face. "Fine. My mother, Mrs. Rose Tavington, lives with my younger sister in a small house on the outskirts of London. My Aunt and her daughter live with them as well. Are you satisfied?"

He stopped short, clearly wanting to end the discussion.

Margaret started to grow angry.

"How reluctant you are to speak to me!" She snapped. "You've never told me any of this before! I am just discovering how little I know about you! I know more about MacIntyre's family and friends and he has only visited me three times!

"Does your sister have a _name_, Colonel? What of your Aunt, your cousin? I know nothing about you, nothing at all. Do you think I am not worthy of conversation?"

"Eleanor Tavington." Tavington said with a sigh, his voice softening. "And my aunt is Jane Woodhouse, her daughter is Margaret Woodhouse, though we call her Maggie. My young cousin has the same name as you and is as fiery as you as well."

Margaret could tell his fond smile was meant to be soothing.

"Am I nothing more to you, than something to warm your blankets?!" Margaret asked crisply as she began to rise from the chaise, "how difficult it was, to have you share with me the simplest of things!"

He took her arm gently and pulled her back down to him. Tavington was calm now, still trying to sooth Margaret.

"Eleanor is an accomplished young woman," Tavington said softly, stroking her neck. "Though her hair is black and straight, it is as long as yours. Her eyes are the same blue as mine, we both favor our mother.

"My sister is a little younger than you, 22 years old, and unmarried. She enjoys playing on the pianola, and sings as well as you do. My father is dead, and good riddance. I have told my family of my intention to stay in the colonies and they both wish to come and live here with me, my sister is looking forward to it with each letter I send her."

Tavington leaned forward to kiss at Margaret's neck. "Sweetheart, do you really believe I think of you only as someone to warm my blankets?" He kissed her shoulder and she sighed. "I will be riding out soon, to meet the enemy in battle; I do not know for how long I will be gone or even if I will return."

He turned her face, and kissed her lips softly.

Margaret looked at him with concern. "You may not return?" She asked in a subdued voice.

"I am a soldier, and we are at war." He said gently, meeting her eyes. "My time with you is so short, Sweetheart. That is why I wish to spend our time…" His lips brushed her neck again. "Like this… Not because I find it painful to talk to you. The only time I am ever content is when I am with you."

Margaret melted against him, as his lips found hers again, and she touched her tongue to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as his hands moved up and down her sides. He deepened kiss, and laid her back onto the chaise to cover her with his body.

Their breath became heavy; Margaret was moving her hands all over him, as far as she could reach.

_He may not return._ She felt like weeping, she did not want to lose him, the way she had lost Alexander.

Tavington was just as passionate as she, running his hands through her hair and over her arms, moving against her as he continued to kiss her deeply. Margaret whimpered and parted her legs as he centered himself at her core, pressing his hardness against her through their clothes. He had never done that before, it reminded her of the day in her sitting room with James, only so much more fulfilling.

Jonah knocked on the door, and Tavington growled with anger. He lurched off her, and Margaret sat up more slowly as she righted her clothes.

"Come," she called breathily, her face was still flushed.

"Miss Putman, Mr. Amory is here to visit with you. Shall I tell him you are not receiving?"

Tavington grabbed Margaret's arm painfully, she cried out and Jonah's eyes grew wide with shock.

"Just how many suitors do you have?" Tavington grated, his cold eyes stern.

"Colonel Tavington!" Jonah protested. "Please release Miss Putman at once!"

Tavington did. He threw her arm away from him and rose.

"I will see you this evening, Miss Putman." He said coldly as he stormed from the room.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

"Shhhh, keep quiet! They are here again!" Eleanor whispered in Margaret's ear. The usually boisterous Margaret fell silent with fear, as the pounding came on the door. "Mother, tell Aunt Jane not to come downstairs!"

Eleanor edged toward the front window, peering carefully through the window. There were three angry looking men outside.

"Open up! We want our money!"

Eleanor was not sure why they were supposed to cover the debts that William had incurred with these men before he left for the Colonies. He had paid all his other debts, the legitimate ones, but these men were crooked to say the least, claiming that William owed them money from the gambling tables. Eleanor did not believe them, and certainly did not think they would be pounding on the door if her brother was here! She imagined her imposing brother, calmly walking down the stairs right this moment, opening the door slowly, and seeing the men turn tail and run with terror at the sight of him. She had never been on the receiving end of his temper, but she had witnessed others who had. Eleanor felt nothing but contempt for the men outside, trying to exhort money from innocent women, while her powerful brother was away.

An army administer gave a large portion of William's wages directly to her mother, and this paid for their rent, lodgings and other expenses. But it would not cover this 'so called' debt these men claimed William owed them.

She crouched fearfully, and she heard Margaret stifle a gasp when the pounding on the door grew louder.

More shouting from outside, then Eleanor and her mother clearly heard the words - "Come on, let's go. We'll come back later, bring more of the boys. They'll open up for us then! That cute little Eleanor can pay her brother's debt to me!" She heard laughing as the men walked away.

"Mother! It's now or never." Eleanor pleaded. "We must leave! We have to make a decision, and I say forget reporting this to the Police – we have already tried that! We should go to the Colonies! William is sure that Lord Cornwallis will have the Colonies subdued quickly, let us take ship and join him now! What are we waiting for?"

Her mother nodded slowly. "I know, you are right. I was reluctant but… No. We need to do this, and we need to do it now."

Now that the decision was finally made, Mrs. Rose Tavington swung into action. "Jane, come down here at once. I want no arguing," Rose said firmly when her sister appeared. "We are leaving, for the Colonies and that is final. I plan to be packed and out of this house today – I will not wait for those men to come back and rape my daughter! Now, are you coming or not?"

"How? How in the world do you plan on paying for this – the voyage alone – we don't have the money to cover all four of us –"

"We do." Mrs. Tavington affirmed. "I have being keeping some aside these few years since William left, it will be enough to cover the voyage, our coach, any lodging we will need while we wait for a ship to leave port for the Colonies. The only problems I can see right now, are getting packed and out the door before those men return. Now!" Rose snapped, clapping her hands sharply. She would brook no nonsense, now that her mind was set. "Pack only what we need, what cannot be replaced. No – Margaret! We cannot take your piano! Yes, of course we can bring Mr. Wimms – I would not expect you to leave your cat behind, though I dare say he will not thank you for it! Six or eight weeks being aboard ship... Eleanor – you head out to Mr. Kirks and see if he will drive us into town. We will lodge at the Parkside Inn until we can board ship… Well? Hop to it!"

Every one jumped to attention, Eleanor raced from the house to speak to Mr. Kirks while the rest of the family saw to the packing.

Two hours later, four women stood in the yard at the back of the house, as Mr. Kirks and his son loaded the carriage with all of the women's worldly belongings. They had managed to pack almost everything, except for the furniture.

"I have a spare room, as you know, Mrs. Tavington. I could remove the furniture for you, hold it in my home until you can collect it, or send it on to you when you are settled?"

Rose thought about it for a while. What is there that cannot be replaced? A piano, tables, chairs, plates, cups… There was nothing of value left in the house, she would not be returning for any of it. She knew that the Kirks where not a wealthy family either, her furnishings could find a new home in his house.

"No, Mr. Kirks. We will not be returning. Please, take it all and keep it – use it, sell it, do as you wish. You have always been good friends to us and I could think of no better home for any of it."

"My piano!" Margaret squealed in protest. Even Eleanor was looking forlorn at its loss.

"Alright – here is what we will do. Mr. Kirks – everything within this house is yours now. All of it. But consider the piano a loan – if we do ever return, we will collect it from you. Will that be suitable, Margaret?"

Her niece brightened and nodded enthusiastically.

Mr. Kirks protested at first, but Rose would not be swayed. What else could she do with any of the furnishing? No, this was the best way. She insisted he accept, and then ended the conversation by the simple measure of climbing into the carriage and closing the door.

She heard Mr. Kirks bark a laugh, and she imagined him shaking his head as he climbed in front of the carriage to drive it down the street.

"Mother, look!" Eleanor pointed toward the street path, her face turning white as they were jostled about in the carriage. There where eight men walking toward the house, looking very menacing.

"Oh my Lord," Rose breathed, "we got away just in time."

"There may not be anything left in the house for the Kirks, after all, if those men get inside."

"Surely the Police would be called to the house?" Eleanor asked.

Rose just shook her head. It did not matter, they had made their escape, and her daughter and niece were safe. She and her sister were safe too, they were both handsome women, she had no doubt they would have received those men's unwanted attentions as well, though she never voiced her concerns.

They did not live far from London itself; it was only another hour or so when Mr. Kirks pulled the carriage to a stop, around the back of the Parkside Inn. They said their farewells to Mr. Kirks and Rose promised to write to Mrs. Kirks as soon as they were settled.

Rose took the last two rooms available at the Inn, and then headed out to start making enquiries about the voyage to the Colonies. Eleanor had suggested that perhaps, being the Colonel's mother, they may be able to set sail on one of the His Majesty's ships – they could possibly even port directly in Charles Town itself, where her son was currently billeted.

Hours later, Rose sat to dinner with her family, explaining their next move.

"The next lot of ships that the fleet is sending to the Colonies leaves in several days. Captain Rossiter is in the process of getting permission for us to board one of those ships, so we must be ready to move quickly. He thinks we will be granted permission, being Colonel Tavington's family, just as you suggestion Eleanor - that was good thinking indeed. I have every confidence that by this time Friday, we will be on our way. We do need to keep our heads down in the mean time though, if we happen across any of those men…" Rose took a deep, worried breath.

Margaret's face was bright with excitement, but Rose suspected she was the only one in the group who felt like this was a grand adventure. William had painted a fairly bleak picture of sea travel, Rose was just glad it would be a relatively short journey.

She was going to write a letter to her son, but then laughed at the idea. She had no doubt she would be on the same ship as the letter!


	11. Chapter 11 Losing Control

Chapter 11 - Losing Control

Margaret paced around her room waiting for Tavington to retire for the night. He had returned late from his meetings at the Assembly Hall, and Margaret was not looking forward to the confrontation that would surely come between them, after his behavior earlier in the day.

He had been back for a while now, having a late dinner with Bordon and Evans, he had taken a bath, and was now spending time with his men. She could hear him talking with them in the parlor next door.

_He is making me wait on purpose, I am sure! Waiting until I have stewed just the right amount..._

Margaret stalked over to the fireplace to stare into the flames. She thought he was being completely ridiculous, showing such jealousy over her suitors when he would be leaving soon. Of course he will be in and out of Charles Town for another six months or so, but when the British secured the area and subdued the rebels, they would move on from South Carolina to North Carolina, and then what was she to do? She would be left behind, and he would forget her. She would probably never see him again.

James, however, had deep roots, family ties, here in South Carolina. She knew that when he had done his duty for the war effort, he would return and live out his life in Charles Town.

Margaret had been shocked and frightened by Tavington's violent displays of jealousy in the parlor earlier today. And afterward, he had left so abruptly that she had not been given the chance to explain that Mr. Armory was not a suitor, he was a friend of her families and had been helping James to manage Margaret's business interests abroad.

For the last two weeks, shortly after Tavington had moved into her room, Margaret _had_ stopped seeing her suitors, and with the exception of James, she had stopped encouraging them altogether. That was the true reason MacIntyre had not been by to see her. Margaret was loath to give James up, however, after everything they had been through, and she had no intention of spending her life pining for Tavington when he finally leaves for North Carolina.

_Though he has spoken of staying in the Colonies... Perhaps he might return, and settle in South Carolina? _

The thought had not occurred to Margaret before. She shook her head - no, he had made no mention of where he would settle, and had not given any indication that he might wish to marry. James spoke of little else, in his subtle way, never actually asking outright.

It was hard to imagine, after all that she had been through lately, that it had actually only been little over a month since the day the siege was lifted, since the day she had sat astride James' lap, celebrating the Redcoat victory in their own private way.

And it had been little more than three weeks since Tavington had moved into her manor, only two since he moved into her room...

_How could I have allowed that to happen? If James finds out... It will end any future we might have together, even though I am still a virgin. I should make Tavington move back to his own room..._

She could not though, it would be the same as Tavington's first week in her home, all over again. She had been in such despair for that entire week... The answer did not lie in sending him away from her, Margaret knew. Then what?

_Even if he asks me to marry him, should I? I can't imagine James ever hurting me, and Mr. Mason is certainly gentle with Claire. Benjamin never hurt Elizabeth... But Tavington, grabbing my arms that way? What else would he do, if I was his wife, and completely his to do as he wished? _

No, she did not truly believe he would _strike_ her as she had heard of other women's husbands doing frequently. Still, the tendency was there, that thinly veiled violence...

Margaret spun away from the fire and stalked to her bed, throwing back the covers. Her pillows fell to the floor and Margaret kicked them across the room in frustration. She took a deep, calming breath, collected her pillows and climbed into her bed, her doubts unanswered.

::::::::::::

Shortly later, Tavington came into the room. Margaret had not gone to sleep, she had lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Tavington's laughter from the parlor, and wondering if they may not have a confrontation after all. But then her door opened and Tavington strode into the bedroom, bringing an icy chill with him.

Now she sat in her shift on the edge of the bed, with Tavington scowling down at her.

"You have known all along that I have suitors, Colonel." Margaret replied to his accusation, glaring right back.

She had been about to tell him she was only seeing Wilkins now, but it infuriated her, the sudden need to explain herself to him. James had far more right than Tavington, and he had never said one cross word about the others. "I am not sure why you are so angry about them. I have never hidden anything –"

"No, nor have you ceased encouraging their suit for you, even after I billeted her." He snapped coldly.

"I am not sure why I should...!" She began, not bothering to correct him, but he interrupted her.

"Perhaps because I am sharing your bed?" Tavington growled, stepping closer.

"Now, you see here!" She snapped. "You and I are not promised, you have not proposed and I doubt you have any intention to. Those men are friends! We go out for dinner, picnic lunches, the occasional walk – we spend enjoyable time together!"

"They are not just '_friends_', Miss Putman," He said in a fury filled whisper. He leaned toward her and she sensed he was controlling himself – his body seemed tight again with that thinly veiled violence. "To a man, they would all bed you in an instant, every one of them. Tell me truthfully – do you kiss any of them, do you spend your time with them they way you do me?"

His voice was frightful; his face was twisted with anger and jealousy.

She was too frightened to be indignant at the suggestion, and could only shake her head.

"You will tell me the truth, Miss Putman!" He grated.

"I am! I am telling the truth – how low do you think of me?" Margaret's voice was anguished.

She did not dare tell him that she did, indeed, kiss Wilkins, that she had sat astride him for their pleasure. She did not like lying, but his jealousy was frightful and she had no desire to inflame him further. "Besides, I HAVE stopped seeing them, all except for Wilkins!"

Tavington pinned her with his gaze, searching her face for the truth.

"All except Wilkins?" He asked finally. His voice was still harsh, far from being mollified. "The others you have stopped seeing, but you have kept your _Mr. Wilkins_?"

"What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? Stop seeing him as well?"

"Yes!" He replied instantly, seizing on the idea as he leaned closer again. She resisted the urge to recoil from him, still trying to hide her apprehension.

"Well, I won't." She whispered, and pulled back suddenly as fury flared across his face. "I have been friends with him for so long – "

He grabbed her then – his fingers digging painfully into her arms as he lifted her from the bed and pulled her against his body.

"He is _not_ a friend!" He grated through clenched teeth. "He is the one that wishes to marry you!" Tavington released her abruptly and turned away from her and as he strode across the room, Margaret thought she heard him mutter, "I cannot do this, cannot let this consume me! I am trying to win a war for fuck sake!"

Margaret's knees felt weak as she stumbled and collapsed onto her bed, trying to get her breathing under control.

::::::::

After a while her fear receded, she become angry. Wilkins had been courting her for years, and he did have good intentions - unlike Tavington!

Margaret jumped up and strode from her room to his in a fury.

"What the _bloody_ Hell was that?" She snapped at him after slamming his bedroom door. She was starting to become used to the swear words he had been teaching her, though she used them very rarely. It seemed fitting right now, however.

Tavington lay on his back with one arm under his head, staring at her with astonishment as she climbed under the covers. Her hair was in wild disarray around her shoulders and down her back. "You've no right to ask me to stop seeing Wilkins! None! _AND_ you hurt me, see – look at the bruises on my arms! I do not know what this is between us, and you can be assured I am not going to put my life on hold only for you to traipse off to North Carolina is six months! How dare you! I - "

She was cut off suddenly when he grabbed her arms and pushed her back against the pillows, but instead of unleashing more fury, he covered her mouth with his, his hair falling around his face. Before long he released her arms and she twined her hands through his hair. Their tempers cooled as their passion for each other mounted.

Margaret moved her legs apart slightly, hoping Tavington would nestle between her thighs as he had started to do in the parlor earlier. She pressed her body firmly against his, whimpering as he pushed his hardness against her.

Tavington caressed her shoulders gently, his hand making its slow way down between her breasts. She whimpered again, with disappointment when he moved off her, to lie alongside her.

"Control, remember?" He reminded her, and she sighed and shut her eyes – not wanting him to see them fill with tears.

"Perhaps there is something I can do…" He murmured as he kissed her, and his hand resumed its caress of her shoulders, again making its slow way down between her breasts, further down to her stomach. His hand dipped lower, and Margaret pulled back from the kiss to gaze at him with desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed, when his hand nestled between her legs though her night dress.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" He asked, kissing her neck.

"If you stop… You better hide your pistol, that's all I can say!" She breathed, pushing against his hand with eagerness. She moved one leg up, giving him more room to move and gasped at the feelings spreading through her. Tavington chuckled.

"Do you know how to fire a pistol, Sweetheart?" He asked, pressing his palm firmly against her. Her eyes grew wide and her breathing became ragged.

"Stop talking! Oh.. Oh Lord…" Margaret moaned. She lifted her hips when he started to pull up her nightdress, and gasped aloud when his hand moved beneath her stockings. His fingers were gliding along her gently, through her curls and lower – over her folds.

"You are very moist, Sweetheart," He said in a voice thick with desire. "I am going to have a hard time keeping control if I do this…"

"I don't care, oh God, don't stop!" He lowered his head; she could feel his hot breath on her neck and when she turned to glance at him, she saw his eyes were closed tight. She bit her lip, as his fingers continued their caress, now questing within her folds.

She arched her back and gave a long low moan when his fingers touched her hard bead. She began to rock her hips against his fingers, whimpered as he ran his finger around and around the swollen hardness. Before long she was flushed and sweating, her head thrown back as moans escaped her. The thrilling warmth she had so longed for was surging through her, so much stronger than ever before and getting stronger.

Tavington's eyes were still shut, his breathing labored as he pleasured her, slowly circling her hardness as Margaret thrashed her hips up and around. He would not increase the speed, keeping the same slow, firm pace, easy circles around and around.

"Oh, Colonel… Please… Oh…" The feelings she had imagined in her waking dreams did not come close to this.

Using his other hand, Tavington pulled her night dress aside, revealing one beautiful breast. He stared at her hard nipple for a moment, as she continued her bucking. He noticed her hand was gripping the sheet beside her, bunching and dragging it up in her closed fingers.

He lowered his mouth to her nipple, licking and suckling gently. Margaret's other hand gripped his hair, and she let out a series of long, low moans. Her legs had a life of their own, her thighs squeezed against his hand, then moved apart again, her feet moved up and down along the bed, toes curling.

"Faster, please… Oh please!" Tavington new she was close to her climax. He continued his slow suckling of her nipple, but quickened the pace of his fingers on her bead. He pressed harder, circling faster and Margaret held still against him holding her breath in.

The feeling of thrilling heat suddenly exploded inside her. Margaret cried out, she released her hard grip on the sheet and gripped his shoulders hard, thrusting against his fingers in the agony of pleasure. Tavington covered her mouth with his to stifle the loud moans.

The pleasure flowed through her body in waves, eventually growing weaker and fading away.

Margaret lay back on the pillows, staring at Tavington with awe as her breathing returned to normal, though her face was still flushed. She started to laugh, the laughter of release, of joy and amazement.

"Has it been a while since you felt that?" Tavington smiled, thinking he understood.

She shook her head, "Oh, Colonel - I have _never _felt that! I _knew_ there was more but... Oh my Lord!" She laughed again, running her hands over his cheeks, and kissing him repeatedly.

"Your fiancé never did that to you?" Tavington asked with surprise as she reined joyful kisses all over his face. "You did it to him… I thought he would have."

"Yes, he did, but... He didn't know how, perhaps. Oh my Lord… Where did you _learn_ that? Just how many women have you _BEEN_ with to have learned that?!"

Tavington smiled, "I could not answer that one, Sweetheart. I lost count a long time ago."

She lay back to consider him with a smile. Nothing could ruin her good mood, even discovering he had bedded so many women.

"Harlot!" She said finally, and laughed at his shocked expression.

"Now, now," he smiled with a raised eyebrow. "Is that anyway to speak to the man who has given you your first climax?"

"Not my last, I hope..." She said, her eyes wide and sparkling, suddenly yearning to feel it again. She kissed him deeply, and smiled when he placed his hand back between her legs.


	12. Chapter 12 Wilkins joins the Militia

_A/N - I decided to change events a little, its hard staying true to the movie and to historical fact! I do want to say in Tarleton's defence that according to factual history, he apparently provided every care he could for the enemy wounded, equal to that of his own British wounded. But in order for the shooting to still take place on the farm, and for the Ghost to 'rise', I have decided to have Tavington be less merciful... _

_And I've changed the events at Fresh Water farm, when Thomas gets shot._

_**Chapter 12 - Wilkins joins the Loyalist Militia** _

Shortly after Tavington left for the Assembly Hall the following morning, Wilkins paid Margaret a visit.

She was enjoying a cup of tea in her little parlor, thinking of the fabulous night she had had in Tavington's room the night before, when Jonah came in to announce Mr. James Wilkins. Wilkins came into the room with a smile, kissed Margaret's hand as he always did, and she patted the seat, bidding him to sit beside her.

Wilkins took her hand in his, and Margaret quashed the feelings of guilt as they surged through her. She had spent the entire night in Tavington's bed, feeling that wonderful pleasure several times before they finally fell into a contented sleep. She did not like to think what Wilkins would say or do if he learned of her feelings for Tavington, or of the pleasures she had experienced in his arms, in his bed.

Wilkins would be devastated! And furious…

"This is not purely a social call, I'm afraid," James was saying. "As you know, Mr. Mason and I have been talking for quite a long time now, about joining the Loyalist Militia. Lord Cornwallis is calling for all Loyalists to come and join him near to Camden, and, well, we have decided to do so. We leave today - this morning, as a matter of fact."

Margaret stared at Wilkins, stunned, her smile became sickly.

"You're leaving, to join with Lord Cornwallis? This morning? Just like that?" She asked, aghast. Guilty feelings and thoughts of Tavington fled. "You are not a soldier!"

"Margie, I have had training - I know how to handle a weapon." Wilkins said firmly, giving her hand a squeeze. "And its hardly 'just like that', we have been talking about it for a long time - well before Charles Town was besieged. I know it is a surprise, that we are riding out this morning, but you must have realised it was coming. I've spoken of aught else!"

When Margaret remained silent, Wilkins continued.

"We will gather as many Loyalists along the way, those who are ready to fight. There are already quite a few bands of Loyalists roaming the back country, making their way to Cornwallis, but it's time to get them organized. We will be ready to fight when the next battles begin, right along with the Redcoats."

Margaret put her hand to her throat, she was filled with anguish.. "But, you might be hurt! Killed! And Mr. Mason too? Claire must be beside herself! Lord, James…"

"Margie, I have to do this – I have to fight. Mr. Mason feels the same, your cousin Peter was even talking about joining. We cannot stand by any longer."

"What of my birthday, can't you stay long enough -"

"Your birthday is not for another two weeks, Margie! Its almost the end of June as it is... No, we have to leave now."

"But what if… I don't want you to be hurt, James!" Tears suddenly filled her eyes. She tried to hold it back, but found she could not. James put his arms around her comfortingly as she began to weep.

"I will write to you, as often as I can. I know it will be hard on you, and on Mrs. Mason as well, but… I'm sorry, Margie, it's just something we have to do. The local Patriots are forming too, did you know that? There is unrest out in the back country and Lord Cornwallis is going to need our help, help from people who know the area, to counter the rebel militia and the Ghost."

"Ghost?" Margaret asked faintly. "What are you talking about, what Ghost?"

"You have not heard of him? He is recruiting Patriots along the Santee to join his militia, much as we are recruiting for the Loyalist Militia. Colonel Tavington had the countryside all but subdued before coming to Charles Town -"

Margaret shifted uncomfortably in Wilkins embrace, to hear Wilkins say her lovers name with such respect and admiration.

"- But recently one man, a Patriot, has become quite a nuisance. They call him the The Ghost because he attacked a group of twenty Redcoats, killing them all, and the Redcoats did not even see him. He took their supply carts, as well, before fading into the woods. One Redcoat survived to tell the tale, but he died shortly later. This Ghost has become a legend in the back country, and has been rallying the local men for the past four weeks already. He has quite a few men following him, and more are joining him by the day."

"One man, killed twenty Redcoats?" Margaret asked, her eyes wide with shock. "Truly?"

"Well, no one knows for sure. There may have been two others. Colonel Tavington, apparently, sent out some Dragoons to scout the area, and according to their report it looked as though there may have been two or three more - judging by the tracks." Wilkins shrugged, to show he just did not know. "We are going to help track him down."

"You are going to come up against him? Are you mad?" Margaret turned in his embrace to face him. "He sounds like a monster, if he did work alone! Twenty men! James, don't do this, I'll be so worried for you!"

"I have to," Wilkins said quietly, and Margaret hung her head as her eyes filled with tears. "Margie," Wilkins tipped her face up to his. "I will be careful, I promise. I will write, every day, though the letters will not get through to you reliably. My Margie, I have to do this..."

"I know." Margaret said, her voice choked with tears. "Its just so horrible – my nephew is fighting, and now you are leaving to fight also. What if you encounter Gabriel out there? James – you could end up fighting members of my own family! What if…"

"No what if's. I will not give you false reassurances, Margie. I simply do not know what is going to happen, all I can promise is to be careful, and if I do encounter Gabriel…"

Margaret caught James eyes when he fell silent.

"I know my duty, Margaret. I cannot promise anything concerning your nephew. I just can't."

Margaret stared at her hands and quietly wept, with James' arm still around her shoulders.

Her weeping finally subsided and she turned to face him, placing her hand alongside his cheek.

"You will write?"

He nodded. "Every day. But as I said, you may not get all of the letters, or any. The post has been disrupted with this war."

"I know, I've written to Charlotte so often of late, and have not had a single reply. I've not heard from Gabriel either and I worry so much for them, and now you are leaving too... Oh, James!"

"It will be hard for you, I know, and for Mrs. Mason also. You must look after her, Margie, be strong, for her. Do you promise?"

Margaret nodded and Wilkins leaned forward to brush his lips against hers, after a while they deepened the kiss and Margaret shivered when his tongue touched hers.

Tavington, surprisingly, was not in her thoughts at all. Not until much later, when Margaret again sat alone in the parlor after Wilkins had left. She knew that Tavington would be furious if he ever found out she had sat in Wilkins' embrace for over an hour, kissing him farewell.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When Tavington arrived home that night, Margaret asked him about this Ghost. It had been on her mind all day long, and she was worried for her family, out there in the back country, if there was an organized group of rebel's roaming through out the area. Benjamin had six children still under his care to look after. Charlotte was living on her own, and although her plantations was not far from Benjamin's, he would not be able to take care of her.

They were sitting down to dinner, with the other Dragoons, when Margaret raised the subject.

"Ah, yes, the Ghost," Tavington said with a curled lip, dropping his loaded fork to his plate as though he had lost his appetite. "I am surprised you have not heard of him before today, Miss Putman. He is making quite a nuisance of himself. Men are flocking to him, as I suspected they would, with his inflated reputation. They see him as a rallying point for their treason - for their rebellion. We would have had the area subdued by now, if it was not for him."

Bordon nodded agreement. "You see, after Moncks Corner fell, the British Army captured 5000 Continental soldiers. A force of Virginian Continentals, under Colonel Buford, had been making their way to aid Charles Town while it was under siege. When they learned the city had fallen, they turned back. Colonel Tavington heard that John Rutledge was traveling with Buford, in an attempt to escape Charles Town for North Carolina, and we pursued them. John Rutledge, as you know, was the Governor of South Carolina, and would have made an excellent captive.

"We rode day and night to catch up with them, finally doing so near Waxhaws. Our advance guard slashed through Buford's rear guard, and -"

"I do not think Miss Putman cares for military tactics," Tavington said, noticing the impatient glint in Margaret's eyes.

"Oh, yes. Well, the short of it is, we crashed into them, gave battle, and Colonel Tavington's horse was shot out from under him -"

"No!" Margaret gasped, glancing at Tavington with fear filled eyes. He smiled and squeezed her hand gently.

"Yes, indeed. And we thought he was killed! We thought he had been shot and killed, while under a flag of truce, and we attacked indiscriminately. Our blood was up, that is for certain! We slashed at anyone and everyone, even those - I'm ashamed to say - who were kneeling with their hands up in surrender. Tavington, as you can see, had not been killed - he was pinned under his horse. It took a while for him to win free and get the rest of us back under control."

"However," Evans continued, joining in the discussion. "The Patriots claimed that Tavington ordered the renewed attack because he could not be bothered with taking prisoners. Colonel Tavington's tactics can be... well... aggressive and brutal at times, well they can be, Tavington!" Evans said when Tavington gave him a flat, cold stare. "I've said it before, though I do agree with your approach, Sir."

Tavington scoffed, not particularly mollified.

"And because of Tavington's fierce reputation, the Patriots have been able to convince most other Patriots, that may have remained neutral in this war, that Tavington attacked mercilessly under flag of truce. It is not true, Miss Putman - I was there, after all. But now Tavington has been branded as 'Bloody Will', and 'The Butcher'. They say 'Tavington's Quarter', which actually means to show no quarter at all. 'Bufords Massacre' is becoming a rallying cry for the Patriots and this Ghost is using it indiscriminately."

"It is a direct attack on Colonel Tavington's reputation, and it has gained the Ghost far more followers than perhaps he might have had, if events at Waxhaws had been told more accurately. As Evans says, more Patriots may have remained neutral until 'Bufords Massacre'." Bordon finished.

Margaret stared at Tavington with horror. "How can this possibly be stopped?" She asked with worry.

"I doubt it can be," Tavington replied with a shrug. "Once a reputation is earned it is hard to banish. My men, thinking me dead, showed a vindictive streak not easily restrained. It took a good fifteen minutes before I could call them back to themselves, and by then the blood shed was too great. My new reputation persists, and yes, I am now known as The Butcher."

"Good Lord," Margaret said faintly, her hand feeling limp in Tavington's. "But... What does all this have to do with 'the Ghost'? How does he come into it? Was he at Waxhaws?"

"No, I do not think so," Bordon went on to explain, while Tavington remained silent. "After the battle, a man, or perhaps a few men, attacked twenty Redcoat officers, as they were making their way with supplies and with a spy we had captured earlier that day on a farm. Nineteen of those soldiers were brutally killed, and I mean brutally, Miss Putman. He used a tomahawk amongst other weapons and was ruthless. The Redcoat Officers were scalped -"

"Bordon..." Tavington said in warning, noticing how pale Margaret had become.

"Oh, yes, sorry... As I was saying, only one survived and he was so badly injured that he died shortly after he was returned to camp, after he had given his report."

"So it is true then?" Margaret breathed, "one man, how could he do so much damage?"

"That is what we intend to find out, Miss Putman." Tavington replied in crisp tones.

"And you have no idea who it might be?"

Tavington hesitated. They did not know, nothing was certain. But he remembered the man he had confronted on the farm that day, before burning down his house, capturing his son and shooting his other son. He often wondered if that man had anything to do with the attack on the twenty Redcoats. But how, indeed? Tavington could not credit it, however it was that man's son Tavington had taken prisoner, his son that had been rescued...

"No. We have no idea. One lead, perhaps, though it does not seem to lead anywhere. He has been reeking havoc out there, Miss Putman. We will be leaving Charles Town soon, very soon, to join Lord Cornwallis and to rout out this Ghost. He will not remain hidden for long."

"Leaving? When?" Margaret held Tavington's eyes, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

_I've lost James today, and now I will lose Colonel Tavington? _

_Of course, he was not going to stay in Charles Town forever, you knew that!_

"Soon, Miss Putman," Tavington's voice was surprisingly gentle. "Two weeks, perhaps less."

"Then you will miss my birthday too..." Margaret said, feeling silly for being concerned over such trifles, when the man she loved may die!

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I don't want you to go, Colonel. I know you have to, and I feel silly even saying this but... Lord - can't you send Bordon! Stay here, command your Legion from here!"

Tavington laughed and shook his head. He lay back on his pillow with his arm under his head, Margaret lay beside him.

"If only I could. But alas, it does not work that way. No, sweetheart. I do have to leave, and soon. You knew it would happen eventually."

"Yes," Margaret sighed, "but it was not real then... Now..." Margaret sighed again.

"Come here, let's get our minds off leave takings, they are never pleasant." Tavington said with a smile, as Margaret moved into his embrace. His smile broadened as her hand moved down his bare chest, over his stomach under the blankets and down to his hard member.

Margaret moved to half lay on Tavington, kissing him deeply with a sigh of contentment as she slowly stoked his length. It twitched under her fingers and Tavington's breathing soon became ragged, he pushed his hips up against her soft fingers, urging for more. Margaret closed her hand around his thick length with a firm grip, tugging it up and down insistently. Tavington wrapped one arm around her shoulders, his other hand toying with her nipple.

His climax was close, it was building and with a few more expert tugs, Tavington had taught his sweetheart well, his seed exploded up his length. Tavington pushed his hips up and down in a frenzy and groaned, until his climax subsided.

He held Margaret's body close to his, her head on his shoulder, both content for now.

"What is this one lead you mentioned, Colonel?" Margaret asked. Tavington was just drifting off to sleep, it took him a few moments to understand her question. "And why is he attacking you, and your reputation, directly? Is it only an attempt to recruit to the militia?"

"Oh, the Ghost?" He curled his lip with annoyance, but decided to tell her, it could not hurt, after all.

"It was after Waxhaws, as Bordon mentioned. I led the Dragoons out to find the British wounded, and enemy stragglers. We came across this farm..."

_May 30, 1780. The day After Waxhaws:_

_At the head of the Green Dragoons, Tavington held his fury on a tight leash. He could already see as he thundered toward the house, enemy wounded lined up along the ground, bandaged and being cared for. _

_There were Redcoats being tended to as well, but Tavington did not believe that the care of His Majesty's soldiers mitigated the offense of harboring the enemy. These people, these colonists, needed to choose their side, and if they wavered in their loyalties, they were Patriots and rebels. _

_He stopped when he reached the house, and looked about him at the patched up enemy wounded with cool disdain. A softly spoken Redcoat Lieutenant approached him apprehensively. Tavington did not hesitate; he barked his commands with a stern voice, no nonsense voice._

_"Lieutenant, have a detachment take our wounded to the surgeons at Winnsboro. Use whatever horses and wagons you can find here."_

_He looked about him, quickly identifying the plantations owner, watching Tavington warily from his front porch. _

_"You Sir," Tavington called, addressing the man in clipped tones. "You are accused of harboring the enemy. It was not your responsibility to care for them and the care for British soldiers does not negate your crime."_

_"Sir," the man replied, his voice was strong, though he cast furtive looks toward his wife and the young children surrounding him, obviously worried for their welfare. Tavington assumed the woman was the farmer's wife, she clutched at the hands of one child who resembled her greatly. The woman was strikingly beautiful, with long hair unbound down her back. She was tall and regal. Tavington took his eyes off her and set his mind to the matter at hand, as her husband continued to speak. "I considered it my duty to care for all of the wounded, rather than let them die. I did not do it with any other intention than to save lives, but surely you would rather have live captives to ransom, rather than dead soldiers?"_

_Tavington considered the man's words. Captives where always useful, as he had proven time and time again. Moncks Corner and Charles Town alone had provided them with at least 5,000 enemy troops. Not for ransom, however - 5000 Continental troops caught were 5000 troops less to fight the British. _

_Tavington nodded, deciding to be fair._

_"Very well. By your own concession, you did not save these men for me to take as prisoners, but I agree, captives are useful." _

_He turned away from the plantation owner to address the slaves, standing nearby watching apprehensively. Tavington smiled, knowing the source of their unease, they would have heard of the slaves being enlisted to the British ranks to fight the Patriot cause._

_"Let it be known: By standing order of his Majesty, King George, all slaves of the American colonies who fight for the crown shall be granted their freedom with our victory." Not bothering to wait for their assent, he continued, "Lieutenant, take them with you to Winnsboro. Enlist the younger ones and find some good use for the rest."_

_One of the slaves, looking confused, addressed him timidly. "We're not slaves, we're freedmen."_

You will serve His Majesty, either way. _Tavington thought as he looked down at the man, coolly and unrepentant. _

_He replied in clipped, exasperated tones, "In that case, you are 'freedmen' who will have the opportunity and the privilege, to serve in the King's army, then, won't you!"_

_The freedman seemed to quail under Tavington's hard stare, and made no further protest he and his companions where gathered up by Redcoats and marched away._

_Another Officer appeared at Tavington's stirrup, handing him a leather satchel. "Rebel dispatches, Sir." _

_Tavington read through the letters quickly, and then asked quietly, "Who carried this?"_

_When no one spoke he looked up from the dispatches to see his fellow Redcoat's sharing blank and confused glances. _

_"WHO CARRIED THIS?" He roared, his fury and disgust erupting._

_"I did, Sir." _

_As one, all the Dragoons and other Redcoats turned to the new voice, coming from the porch. Tavington eyed the young man, watched as he pulled his blue Continental coat around his shoulders, and began to climb down the porch steps. _

_"I was wounded, these people gave me care. They have nothing to do with the dispatches."_

_Tavington considered the youth coldly for a moment, but did not bother to speak directly to him. "Seize him," he ordered calmly. "Take him to Camden, he is a spy. Hang him and put his body put on display."_

_Surprisingly, it was the farmer, the owner of the plantation, who stepped forward to argue the youth's case. _

_"Colonel, he's a dispatch rider and that's a marked dispatch case." He said firmly._

I tried to be lenient with you, Sir. _Tavington thought, his eyes turning to ice as the man spoke._

_"Kill the livestock, take the horses for Dragoons," Tavington commanded frostily, ignoring the man standing before him._

_ "Sir," he insisted, undaunted despite the punishment he had just been given. "A uniformed dispatch rider with a marked case cannot be held for spying."_

_Tavington took a deep breath, and regarded the man as he would an insect. Then he gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. "We are not going to hold him." He explained slowly. "We are going to hang him." _

_The farmer started to protest, and the young man whispered, "Father!"_

_Tavington's smile broadened as realization dawned. "Ah, I see. He is your son. You really should have taught him something of Loyalty."_

_He shook his head, and while his gaze was fixed on the farmer, he commanded in clear, clipped tones, "Fire the house and barns, let it be known: Those who harbor the King's enemies will lose their homes." _

_Tavington ignored the man's shock and his families fear, he turned to address Captain Bordon thinking the farmer cowed. But the man would not give up, seeming desperate, he tried again. _

_"Colonel, I beg you to reconsider. By the rules of war – "_

_Tavington had had enough, a flash of impatience crossed his face and, full of rage, he pulled his pistol and aimed it at the farmer's head. "Would you like a lesson, sir, in the rules of war?" _

_The farmer held his ground, and Tavington smiled, suddenly sensing the other man's weakness. He sited his pistol toward his wife and children still standing on the front porch of the house. "Or perhaps your children would." _

_The man raced forward to stand before the aimed pistol, using his body as a shield. If Tavington squeezed the pistol's trigger, the bullet would explode in the Patriot's chest. He was sore tempted to do exactly that. _

_"No lesson will be necessary," the man said quickly, almost frantically. Tavington held the tableau for a moment longer, then with great restraint he raised his pistol high, choosing to let the man live. _

_"What of the rebel wounded, Sir?" Asked the Lieutenant, as Tavington tried again to gain control of his fury._

_Tavington paused briefly. Capture or kill? _

_"Kill them, the ones that will not survive the journey, at least. Take the others captive." Tavington decided with a shrug._

_The Officer looked horrified._

This Lieutenant should not be serving in the army. He had a spy under his very nose! When the time comes, he will fail to do what needs to be done; his own men will die because of it.

_Tavington shook his head with disgust, turning to address another Redcoat. Then he sat tall on his saddle, watching calmly as his orders were carried out. Suddenly, a young man ran from the porch steps and threw himself at the guards set to take the spy to Camden. He was trying to free the enemy soldier._

_"Run!" Tavington heard him yell. "Gabriel, run!"_

_Tavington did not hesitate, he raised his pistol again, aiming it at the youth's back, and fired. His shot rang out, hitting the boy squarely between the shoulders._

_The family was screaming, running to the young man's aid. Tavington shook his head coldly. _

Traitor, he thought. Attacking soldiers set to guard a prisoner…

_The farmer held his son in his arms, and stared up at Tavington with horror. It was then that Tavington realized how young the boy was, fifteen perhaps, he was big for his age. _

_He shrugged it off, feeling no remorse. He supposed he could have had the lad seized, perhaps shooting him was unnecessary. Tavington did not care either way, and put the matter out of his mind._


	13. Chapter 13 Tavington Leaves CT

_A/N - I've been thinking for the last couple weeks that what happened in Chapter 10, regarding the letter Margaret received from Charlotte was just... Sucky. It did not feel right, even while I was writing it, and I should have taken my time and fixed it before adding it to my story. But the wonderful thing about fanfiction is that it can be changed, and so I have. Margaret never received a letter from Charlotte warning her against Colonel Tavington, Margaret does not storm and stomp around the parlor in a spoiled tantrum because she feels as though she is being excluded from the family for her loyalties, she does not contemplate how she could warn Charlotte against their brother in law Benjamin Martin, because of revelations their sister Elizabeth made to Margaret before she died. That, I have decided, simply did not happen. Elizabeth would not have broken her husband's confidence by revealing these things to Margaret, especially seeing that Margaret would have only been about 18 years old or so at the time. _

_I want them to be a close knit family, divided only by their loyalties. Their love and family bond is far more important. _

_There is still a letter warning against Tavington, but it is from Margaret's Aunt Prudence. Margaret, at this stage in the story, has not heard from Benjamin or Charlotte since Charlotte left Charles Town in late May before Tavington arrived, after Thomas' shooting. She writes to Aunt Prudence for news, but Prudence has not heard from them either, and warns her against Tavington. If events in the next few chapters are confusing, then have a look at Chapter 10 - hopefully that will clear it all up..._

**Chapter 13 - Tavington leaves Charles Town**

:::::::::::::::::

Tavington did not tell Margaret all of the details, of course. Although she had never said the words, he was well aware that she was deeply in love with him and he had no intention of ruining her good opinion of him.

Women were quite squeamish about young children seeing acts of war, therefore he did not mention the younger children that had been standing on the porch with their mother, and he certainly did not mention that he had aimed his pistol toward them to cow their father, the farmer. He also omitted his orders to burn the manor, and to kill the livestock - another thing he judged might disturb Margaret.

As far as Margaret knew, the farmer had only a wife and two sons, one of which he ordered taken captive as a spy, and the other he had shot. He was quite truthful regarding the boys killing, believing he had been perfectly within his right.

"Now of course this Ghost could be anybody, but as I said it is the only lead I have, weak though it may be. I could not imagine this man being involved, however his son was taken as a prisoner, his other son shot -"

"By you."

Tavington raised his head, to gaze at Margaret, surprised by her tone.

"Sweetheart, he was a rebel himself, attacking British Officers, trying to free a man I had taken captive."

"It sounds as though he was trying to protect his brother, and he was young, Colonel! Barely fifteen, by your own admission!" Margaret said with feeling.

"Old enough to know better," Tavington replied firmly. _I am glad I did not tell her the rest, if this is her reaction! _Tavington thought, seeing her eyes flash with anger. "Almost old enough to join the army himself, if the truth be told."

"You are aware I have a nephew who is a Continental soldier," Margaret sat up glared down at him. "Are you telling me that if I tried to protect him under similar circumstances, you would call me a rebel and traitor? Would you shoot me, also?"

"No, I would not shoot you, dearest. But yes, you would be a rebel and a traitor, under those circumstances."

Margaret shook her head with astonishment. "My own family is divided right down the middle, separated by our loyalties. However, family is family, Colonel. People will do what they have to protect their families."

"Even commit treason?" Tavington's voice was ice. "No. I understand the need to protect family, but no one should not put their family before the Crown, before the King. The King himself would hang his own brother if he committed treason against him."

"Perhaps I did not have to kill the boy," Tavington continued in a gentler tone in an attempt to end this pointless argument, "but... No. He knew what he was doing, he was a rebel, and a traitor. There can only be one answer for his crime, sweetheart. This is why men, and not women, fight wars."

Margaret scoffed. "If women fought this war, it would be over by now. There would not have been a war to start with!"

"And how would men distinguish themselves?" Tavington asked, amused by her vehemence. "How would we advance ourselves? Do not tell me you do not enjoy seeing a soldier in his uniform or hearing of his conquests."

Tavington smiled again when Margaret shuffled beside him with embarrassment, he had seen her admiring him in his uniform, often enough, and her eyes had certainly been bright earlier that evening at dinner, listening to his exploits as told by Bordon and Evans. "Unfortunately, war is a bloody affair. Innocents die, along with the guilty, and this boy - he was no innocent. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"I will not go into the particulars of what is happening out there, sweetheart, however, many Loyalist families are being attacked by these rebels, many innocent women and children are being -" Tavington paused, not wanting to distress Margaret. "Well, suffice it to say they are trying to make their way from their plantations to the safety of Charles Town in their droves."

"What were you going to say, Colonel? What is happening to the women, the children?"

"Nothing good, sweetheart," Tavington said, holding her gaze steadily. He saw the understanding in her eyes, and leaned up to pull her back against his chest, he stroked her hair comfortingly. "It is why this man, this _Ghost_, must be stopped, at all costs."

Margaret was so disturbed by the news, she blurted, "James never told me any of this!" She felt Tavington tense, his hand stopped his caress of her hair.

"And by 'James', I assume you mean Mr. Wilkins?" He asked her in a dangerous voice.

Margaret swallowed, wishing she had bitten her tongue. "He came by here this morning. He and Mr. Mason have left Charles Town, to help bring together more men for the Loyalist Militia as they make their way to meet Lord Cornwallis."

Tavington scoffed, "You never mentioned your '_James_' was a soldier."

"Well, he is. Now, anyway…" Margaret said quietly. She did not want to provoke Tavington, she still felt a little fearful of him after his last display of jealous temper. "It does not matter. You were saying?"

Tavington ignored her attempt to change the subject. "What, exactly, does your 'James' know of war and being a soldier? What does he know of tactics?"

"Hopefully enough to keep from getting killed!" Margaret snapped, angry again.

"Why, so he can come back here and marry you?"

"Now see here Colonel! Do I need to send you back to your own room?"

"I would like to see you try!" Tavington laughed, amused by the image of Margaret trying to drag him back to his own room.

"I'm as tall as you, Colonel," Margaret said, haughtily. "I'm sure I am just as strong."

"Really. You think you are as strong. Hmmm," Tavington smiled and with a quick motion flipped Margaret over onto her back, ignoring her quiet squawk of protest as he covered her with his own weight. She _was_ quite strong he quickly realized, when she almost managed to push him off her. Strong, but hardly battle trained, and not as strong as he, in any case. In short order he had her arms pinned above her head, and her thighs pinned beneath his knees - though he was careful not to dig in and hurt her.

She writhed beneath him and groaned with frustration at being so easily handled.

"Come now, my dear - you gave up a very good fight," Tavington smirked, breathing heavily from his exertions. He nudged a knee between her legs to part them.

"I suppose I did, there is no shame in giving in to such a strong man like you," she smiled up at him as he released her arms and positioned his hardness between her thighs.

"None at all," he breathed, ready to begin moving against her. Then he grunted with surprise when she moved under him, flicking her leg up and around, tossing him off of her. She mounted him quickly with a laugh, sat astride him and pinned his arms down. He smiled, knowing he could have broken her grip and release his arms with ease, but why would he? She sat astride him, her shift hitched up around her waist, and she began to slowly grind against him.

"You never cease to surprise me, my sweet Margie," Tavington laughed. Her eyes widened and seemed suddenly very warm, and she leaned down to kiss him passionately.

_Oh, yes, I have never called her Margie before. What an effect it has had on her!_

Margaret moaned and whimpered as she moved against Tavington's naked bulge, he usually had his breeches on when they pleased each other this way. She continually adjusted herself, and Tavington knew she was trying to maintain pressure against her hard bud, her centre. She released his arms and placed her hands on his chest, moving harder and faster. He watched her face flush as her breathing became ragged, and he gripped her bottom to pull her even harder against him. He could not wait for the day he could finally enter her, if she would ever allow him to. With thoughts of plunging her tight velvety depths, Tavington groaned and climaxed. Margaret continued to move against him in a frenzy, then with a cry of her own she shuddered against him and collapsed on his chest.

"Oh, Lord, Colonel, I do not want you to leave."

"I know, Margie..." he tilted her face up to his to kiss her lips lightly.

Sometime later, Margaret was still awake, still in Tavington's embrace listening to his quiet snores. Now she was alone with her own thoughts, she began to brood over the things he had told her. It bothered her more than she could say, that this man whose arms she lay in had killed a boy of barely fifteen years, for trying to protect his brother. As she was drifting off to sleep a sudden thought occurred to her, jerking her to full wakefulness. Tavington stirred beside her but did not wake.

_Lord, what if it was Benjamin, Gabriel and Nathan? _

_No, surely not. Ben would have sent word by now, if my own nephew had been shot by Colonel Tavington, it happened over four weeks ago, after all. Besides, this man had a wife, and Elizabeth has been dead these past five years. _Margaret thought frantically, trying to remember all the details that Tavington had given her, trying to reassure herself._ Colonel Tavington made no mention of other children, just the two young men. But the children could have been in the house..._

_No, it can't have been them. But I will write to Charlotte tomorrow, just to make sure every one is well and warn her of the women being attacked in their homes. Charlotte should not be alone on her plantation, I wonder if she will go to Fresh Water if I suggest it? She would be so much safer with Ben, and she could help look after the children... _

:_::::::::::::::::::::::::::_

In the dark hours of a morning nearly two weeks later, it was Tavington's turn to bid farewell to Margaret. He and the Dragoons would be meeting with the rest of his Legion, before making their way to Cornwallis at Camden.

They lay quietly in bed, Margaret's head resting on Tavington's bare chest. Her fingers were trailing slow, lazy circles up and down his chest, and her leg was draped across his thighs.

"How long do you think you will be gone for?" She had asked in a quiet voice.

"I do not know. It may not be long, but – these things are unpredictable. There will be a battle soon, a large one - we are gathering our forces now, it will happen close to Camden. And then there is the Ghost to consider, I hope to discover his identity quickly, and track him down. We have had word of more atrocities taking place out there, more attacks on our supply carts, even against Loyalist Africans who wish to join our cause - they are being slaughtered. He _must_ be stopped.

"Lord Cornwallis has sent news that the Continentals have been joined by a company of Dragoons from Virginia, under the command of Colonel White."

"What will that mean, for you – you will be faced with Virginian Dragoons!"

Tavington started to laugh, truly amused. "My Margie…" He chuckled. "My Dragoons will cut into them and we will watch them flee." He chuckled again; at the idea these Virginian Dragoons could match him and the Green Dragoons on the field of battle.

Margaret fell silent, feeling embarrassed and irritated – she did not like him laughing at her but she did not want to argue, either. All thought fled when Tavington shuffled in the bed, moving to lay half on top of her, to kiss her gently. Margaret sighed, relishing in the feel of his lips on hers, on her neck, trailing across her throat and down to her breasts. His hand was already between her legs and Margaret sighed again with pleasure as his fingers quested within her folds, to press lightly on her hard bud. He had done this to her every night since that first time, sometimes twice a night. He always nipped and suckled her nipples lightly which heightened her pleasure. Before too soon she was moaning and gasping, hips moving frantically against his fingers, legs squeezing tightly and falling open again as her climax rushed through her. Her breathing was still ragged when he pulled his hand away from her centre and pressed his lips to hers again.

"I am going to miss that," Margaret breathed, and Tavington laughed.

"Nothing else? Only that? You will not miss me, also?"

"Oh, I will definitely miss you, my sweet Colonel... But I will miss _that_ more." She teased. He smiled and kissed her again.

"I will miss you too..." Tavington murmured, as he rubbed his hardness against her leg. "And not only for this..." He nudged himself deliberately. "I will miss you because you are beautiful, clever, you smell so sweet. I will miss _you, _Margie..."

Margaret sighed and melted against him, before reaching down to pleasure him with her hand.

He spent himself quickly and all too soon, rose from the bed, moving about the room to light the candles. Margaret lay still, watching him as he dressed. She eventually rose as well, it was still quite early and she walked with him through the house to have a small breakfast, before they would say their farewells.

The time for the Dragoons to leave came all too soon, and Margaret followed along quietly to the back of the house, where their horses were waiting. Tavington and Margaret stood in the doorway, gazing at each other, as the other Dragoons mounted.

All of a sudden, Margaret burst in to tears. She had promised herself she would not, Tavington was not her betrothed, but he had become everything to her and the idea of losing him…

"Margaret…" Tavington murmured, gathering her up into his arms.

She had clung to him, and buried her head into his shoulder.

"Come now sweetheart," he whispered against her ear as she wept unconsolably. "I have never lost a battle - have some faith – I am not so easy to kill as that."

He meant it to be reassuring but she only cried the harder. He stopped speaking and held her in a tight, secure embrace, until she quieted on her own. He remembered doing the same with Eleanor, when he told her he had joined the army and was leaving to fight in the Americas.

It felt good to have someone, a beautiful woman, mourn his leaving. He had quite a soft spot for Miss Putman, far more than he had for other the other women he had shared his bed with. He ran his hands along her back as she nestled her face in his neck.

"Will you write to me?" She asked. He was pleased to hear her voice had returned to normal, though she still clung to him as though she would never let go. He liked that she could recover her composure so quickly.

"Of course I will write, if I am gone long. Cornwallis expects to have this battle over with in fairly short order, and the Ghost should not prove too hard to capture, I am sure."

"Will you be stationed at Camden? How will I know where to write to you?"

"Take your letters to the Assembly Hall, the administrators there will send them on. Most of my time will be spent routing rebels and Continentals in the back country, along the Santee."

Margaret stiffened, suddenly remembering Gabriel again. "I have family there, my sister - my nieces and nephews... You may even face my nephew on the battlefield, I have told you he is a Continental… "

Tavington said nothing, offered no reassurance concerning Gabriel.

Margaret remembered that Benjamin had warned them all that the fighting would be on their doorsteps. She imagined it would be like the siege of Charles Town, which lasted for six weeks. The fighting itself lasted eleven days, made easier thanks to Tavington's capture of Moncks Corner. The fighting had not entered her home, hopefully Benjamin and Charlotte would be safe.

"Write to me, as often as you can." She commanded, pulling back from him. "About everything. I want every detail!"

He smiled at her complaisantly.

"Every detail? Some may be hard for you to bear..."

"Tell me anyway, I can always put the letter down, ask you not to tell me next time..."

"As you wish. Happy birthday for tomorrow, sweet Margie," He said and gave her a last, lingering kiss before turning and mounting his horse.

Tavington raised his arm to his men, and led the way out of the courtyard. When he made his way around to the front of the house, he looked up and saw there was light flooding Margaret's parlor onto the balcony, and there she was waiting to watch him pass.

_She must have run through the house to get up there so quickly._

He tipped his plumed helmet to her, and she lifted her hand to wave weakly. She watched him gravely until he rode past and when he looked back he could see she was still standing her silent vigil.

::::::::::::::::

"Oh, it is so exciting, to be on our way to the Colonies! But this ship... I long to be off it again, and poor Mr. Whimms, stuck in our little cabin. It's been a horrid journey for him so far and we still have weeks left!" Margaret Woodhouse said worriedly. "Do you think he is looking fat? He is not getting any exercise."

All four women turned to look at Mr. Whimms, fast asleep on top of a shelf. They had crowded into Mrs. Jane Woodhouse's cabin and where sitting on the bunks and trying to enjoy a cup of tea.

"I tried to warn you Maggie," Rose replied sternly. She was heartily sick of the movements of the ship - it simply refused to stay still, day and night. Even now, her tea threatened to slop over the side of the cup if she did not hold it just so. The first week onboard, she had spent along side her sister Jane, with their heads bent over the rail. Eleanor and Maggie were fairing much better so far. The seasickness had finally abated, but she still found the constant movement a horrible hardship.

"I am tired of wearing the same dresses," Eleanor sighed as she lay back on Maggie's bunk. "I long to change into something fresh!"

"We have aired out the dresses each evening, Eleanor," Jane reminded her. "Though I admit I quite agree, I am getting heartily sick of grey. Honestly, what in the world possessed me to choose grey! The first thing I am going to do when I get off this ship is take these dresses off and stomp on them. And then cut them up and burn them for good measure!"

Eleanor laughed. "I will help you, we do both of ours at the same time. How cleansing it will be!"

"Lord," Rose sighed. "We are only two weeks into the journey! We still have six weeks left!"

"Or four!" Maggie, ever the optimist, piped up. "The Captain said we are making good time. He said the journey has not been as bad as the other trips he has sailed, and if we make good time we won't be on rations at the end."

"Oh yes, the soldiers have spoken about the rations. Moldy meat, moldy bread, moldy everything... Let us hope you are right, Maggie!"

"Dolphins!" An excited voice called through the door. "Come ladies, quickly! Dolphins!"

Maggie squealed with delight and ran through the door, joining her new friend - Sarah, to go and see the dolphins from the deck. Eleanor rose more slowly to join them, but her mother and Aunt waved them off, each of them laying back on the bunks now there was more room.

"They are an enjoyable sight, I know, but I think I will stay here for now, you go ahead, my dear," Rose said, waving Eleanor away. Jane grunted, Eleanor knew her Aunt would not join them. She headed up alone, following the way she knew Maggie would have gone, until she found her and Sarah up on the deck, hanging over the rail watching the dolphins racing along with the ship.

Eleanor found these little diversions made the journey worthwhile, much more bearable. That and knowing she would be reunited with her brother very soon.

_How surprised he will be! _She thought to herself with a smile. _And Bordon... How nice it will be to see him again._

Eleanor's blue eyes sparkled and her smile broadened, as she breathed a deep sigh.


	14. Chapter 14 Camden Eve of the Battle

**_At Camden - The eve of the battle - August 15, 1780_**

A hot breeze blew through the camp, and for a moment the British flags, raised high on their poles, flapped and flew. The breeze did nothing to cool the soldiers, going about their tasks as they sweated in their Redcoats.

It was hot in the tent, and Tavington adjusted the scarf around his neck, it felt too tight to be wearing it in such warm weather.

"What I would give to be in Charles Town, just now," Evans said as he leaned back on a folding chair with his feet propped up on a second chair, in Tavington's tent.

"Careful, that one has a tendency to collapse," Tavington warned when the chair creaked. "It is just as warm there, Evans," he shoved Evans feet off the second chair and Evans boots hit the ground with a thump as Tavington sat down.

"Yes, but these tents are _stifling_. And there is always a nice breeze, blowing through the windows at Miss Putman's manor. Especially in the evening."

"You aren't interested in breezes blowing through windows, Evans. It is that Miss Thompson you are pining for." Tavington scoffed. He shuffled through the many missives on his table that demanded his attention, picking one from the middle to read through it.

"And you? Not pining for Miss Putman? I find that hard to believe."

"This camp has many diversions, Evans." Tavington replied primly.

"Ah, yes. Little miss Sarah - she is a saucy thing. Definitely the most pretty of the women selling their wares in camp."

"Expensive, however. Though she can afford to charge so high, being the lovely creature that she is."

"You can afford it, how much do Colonel's earn, Tavington?" Evans said with a laugh. "Maybe I should start thinking about moving up in the ranks."

"Lieutenant Colonel Evans?" Tavington scoffed again and shook his head.

"And what is wrong with that? I think it has a fine ring to it, myself."

Tavington laughed again. Before he could return his attention back to the report, Captain Bordon ducked into the tent, a giant of a man following him. Tavington could not help but stare, this man was a good head taller than Tavington, and he was not a short man - easily six feet. This man must have been 6'4!

Tavington frowned, noticing the uniform the man was wearing, the red and green of a Green Dragoon.

"Sir, this is Captain James Wilkins, he was with the Loyalist Colonial Militia. I thought he might be of some use. Lord Cornwallis has personally recruited him, his horsemanship is excellent, he will make an exceptional Dragoon."

The name snapped Tavington to attention, even Evans leaned forward, eyeing Tavington and Wilkins speculatively in turn.

_Margaret's longtime suitor. _Tavington had not met him before now, despite his many visits to the house. He leaned back in his chair and eyed Wilkins up and down quickly, trying to discern what it was about him that Margaret liked, to encourage his courtship of her.

Bordon was still speaking, nervously, Tavington realised. He went on to explain that Wilkins had been a member of the Assembly, and had joined the Loyalist Militia and recruited many men to their ranks. He was familiar with the area, being a local and owned a plantation not far away.

Many of the Green Dragoons had been recruited from the Colonial Loyalist Militia and Tavington knew them to be very good, brave, battle hardened men. However, he found it difficult to be anything but surly, with Captain James Wilkins.

"I see." Tavington said with a derisive breath. "Tell me, Captain Wilkins, where do your loyalties lie?"

The man's eyebrow's rose, taken aback by the question, before giving Tavington a hard look, not backing down. "To King and Country, Sir."

Tavington rolled his eyes, and then asked coolly, "I see. And why should I trust a man who betrays his neighbors?"

"Well those neighbors of mine who stand against England deserve to die a traitor's death." Wilkins said firmly.

Tavington rolled his eyes again, he was about to make a disparaging remark when Evans foot kicked his under the table. He nodded and took a deep breath, pushing his jealousy aside. There was no room for that sort of nonsense in war, with oncoming battles. They would have their lives in each others hands soon enough, there was no time for such pettiness.

"Forgive me, Captain Wilkins, this heat is making me surly. Please sit. Bordon." Tavington nodded at both men. "Are you aware of the situation, Captain Wilkins? Bordon and I convened with Cornwallis earlier today, the Americans have 3,700 troops, though only 1,500 are regulars. The rest are made up of rebels. Cornwallis has 2100 men under his command, a good 600 of them are Loyalists, but I have no doubt they will be up to the task when the battle begins. 'Tavington's Legion' currently numbers about 450 troops, 250 cavalry and 200 infantry..."

The meeting went for some time, discussing numbers and deployments, and various battle strategies and scenarios.

By the end of the meeting, Tavington had to admit he had a grudging respect for Captain James Wilkins.

:::::::::::::::::

Night fell across the camp and with it came the blessed cool breezes they had been longing for. The four men filled their plates up with food in the mess tent, then found a campfire where they could sit and eat with other Green Dragoon officers, talking of the battle to come in the morning.

After eating, Evans rose and dusted some crumbs off his breeches. "Well, gentlemen, it has been grand. However, I have a need for a woman to warm my blankets this evening, this could be my last night for this world, after all!" Evans said cheerily.

"Lord forbid you go one evening without a woman to warm your blankets," Bordon muttered.

"Are you coming, Bordon?" Evans laughed. "I seem to remember a night at a tavern, not that long ago, that pretty little thing sitting on your knee. What was her name? Donna? Come man, my shout."

"Your paying?" Bordon said, suddenly interested. "Well, then." He rose, as did Tavington and Wilkins. Tavington tried to keep his face smooth, not letting his surprise show on his features. Wilkins was a man with needs, after all, and Tavington knew he had not bedded Margaret. He had to have his needs filled someplace, as did Tavington, especially on the eve of battle.

"Ah, Gentlemen!" A woman's voice called as the men walked toward the large tent where several ladies kept company. "You are all looking fine, this evening. I'm not sure which one of you to choose, what do you think Sarah?" Tavington had not bedded the woman before, though he knew her name was Alice. Tavington always chose Sarah, her hair was almost the same spun gold as Margaret's. She was beautiful, too, though no where near as beautiful as Margaret, who was refined, graceful, perfect.

"Colonel Tavington, of course!" Sarah said with a smile. "Come to visit me again, have you?"

"Yes, would you like to accompany me back to my tent? I will want you for the whole night, tonight."

"Wait! What! The whole night! Tavington, you old bastard!" Evans growled.

Sarah laughed and took Tavington's arm. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, Alice will take good care of you!"

Tavington shot a smirk at his irritated friend, before leading Sarah away from Evans and the other men. He had not even reached his tent when thoughts of Margaret began playing in his mind. He wondered if Wilkins would be imagining he was with Margaret as well, when he bedded down with his chosen pretty. He pushed the unpleasant thought aside, determined not to let it effect his own enjoyment.

When they entered his tent, Tavington went over to his desk drawer and took out a small purse of coins, and handed it to Sarah dispassionately.

"That should cover it," he said crisply, and ignoring her pout, went and lay down on his back on the cot.

"You know, Colonel, you are probably the only man in camp who _doesn't_ have to pay me…"

Tavington rolled his eyes – impatient already. He was hard, and she was interrupting his thoughts of rocking against Margaret while holding her in his arms. He raised his eyebrows at Sarah suggestively, indicating he was ready for her to begin. She sat down on the side of the cot, and ran her hand along his leg.

"I could come with you, back to Charles Town, you will be returning there soon. I could be your mistress."

Tavington started to laugh. _And how would I explain that one to Margaret?_

He scoffed again, and said cruelly, "If I do not have to pay you, then leave the purse here when you leave in the morning." He took her hand and deliberately placed it over his bulge, rubbing her palm against his erection before folding his arms under his head again.

"You won't take me with you? I would be yours!" Sarah said, with obvious affront. Tavington guessed she was probably used to men proposing or making offers for her to be their mistress every other day.

"No, I will not be taking you as my mistress. I already have a _very_ beautiful woman waiting for me in Charles Town, and I do not need another. Now, if you do not mind?" He nudged his hips up against her hand, still on his bulge.

"What is her name?" Sarah asked, her voice thick with jealousy.

Tavington blew out a vexed breath and sat up, ready to rise from the cot. "Alright, then Miss. Leave the money, and take yourself away. I will go and get another for my pleasures tonight."

"No!" The whore protested. "No. I will take care of you… Don't send me away."

Tavington held her gaze with his coolly, then nodded, before picking Sarah up and sitting her on his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist eagerly and he leaned forward, crushing his lips against hers. Sarah gasped and wrapped her arms around Tavington's neck, as his tongue dove into her mouth. Sarah moved her arms up and down Tavington's back, before working quickly to unbind his queue.

"Oh, you are so handsome, Colonel," Sarah breathed, pulling back to see his hair fall around his face. Tavington growled, and kissed her harder, holding his hand on the back of her head to keep her in place. He ground his bulge up against her, but he needed more. Tavington was content to take it slow with Margaret, content to be gentle and loving. Not so with Sarah. He sucked her lower lip, then gave it a soft bite, remembering how much Betty the maid loved rough play. He slid his tongue into her mouth again, and she pressed her body closer to his, and he wrapped his hands under her bottom, pulling her closer again, before reaching around her back to work at her laces.

Growing frustrated, the laces where tied to tightly, Tavington grabbed the neck of the bodice and pulled until the laces ripped. He pulled the bodice down her arms roughly, discarding Sarah's dresses somewhere in the darkness of the tent. He pushed her back against the bed and pulled off her petticoats. A few moments more, and Sarah lay on her back before him, her legs open and draped over either side of the cot. Tavington kneeled between her legs, his hands roamed over her naked body.

She was breathing heavily and her tongue licked her lips with anticipation. Tavington could see her eyes were glazed with need. He leaned forward to take one nipple into his mouth, gliding his tongue around the hardened point. Tavington trailed his fingers down her stomach, lower to the patch of black hair above her legs. He slowly dragged two fingers along her folds, feeling her wetness. His lip curled with pleasure, and he stood up to quickly discard his boots, Redcoat, breeches, shirt, under clothes. When he was finally naked, he climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between Sarah's legs again.

Nudging at her moist opening, he quickly plunged his full length into her depths with a growl, pinning her to the bed. Sarah wrapped her arms around his head and tried to buck beneath him, but he held her still, not wanting to move until he had his body under control. He had been thinking of Margaret and his seed threatened to spill before he had even given Sarah a decent tumble. Breathing heavily, with his body finally under his command, Tavington lifted his bottom high, then plunged forward into Sarah's tight depths, Sarah was set free to buck up against him and she set a hard and fast pace, as Tavington's mind again delved deeper into his reverie of Margaret.

_She lay before him, her arms reaching for him to lay atop of her. _

_"Kiss me, my William…"_

_He smiled down at her as he leaned down to give her sweet kisses on her full lips. She sighed with contentment. "It has been too long, I was so worried about you. I have needed you so much – please, William… Put your hand between my legs!"_

Tavington smiled slightly, plunging Sarah hard and fast, growling with pleasure as his dream self ran his hand along Margaret's body.

_She moaned and breathed heavily with anticipation, watching his hand make its slow way down her body. He placed his palm against her center through her skirts, and she pushed up eagerly against him with another moan. _

_"Oh that is it – I have missed this so much…" He gently applied pressure to her centre and watched her writhe beneath him, hips bucking up against his palm._

_"Harder, my Margie?"_

_"Oh yes – "_

"Oooh, yes!" Sarah cried, clamping tight around his member and bucking with wild abandon. "Oh, you are so wonderful, oh I am almost there!"

"Quiet," Tavington snapped angrily, panting against her ear, a film of sweat covered his body from his exertions. She had broken his concentration. She clamped her mouth shut against a long moan, and Tavington pounded into her, his bottom cheeks clenching with his efforts. He closed his eyes, and Margaret was once again before him.

_"Harder, my Margie?"_

_"Oh yes – "_

_He pressed harder, and she let loose a long low moan. _

_"Please William – I need to feel you against my skin!"_

_Tavington pulled her skirts up and dragged her stockings down, then he lowered his face to her centre and breathed deeply of her clean scent. He began to kiss her, his tongue winding its way gently over her folds, borrowing into her._

_"Oh my, William! What are you doing? Oh Lord!" she gripped the bed linen with both hands, so tightly her knuckles turned white. _

_"I have never done this to you before, have I my sweetheart?"_

_"OH LORD! DON'T SPEAK! DON'T STOP! WILLIAM!" _

_Tavington was only too happy to oblige, his tongue buried deeper into her, circling, tasting kissing as she writhed and moaned. She bucked hard against him, another long sweet moan before falling back against the bed._

_"Oh, William. You are the best of men!"_

Tavington let out a growling breath, trying to keep his climax at bay as Sarah's legs wrapped up around his waist.

"Oh, Colonel!" She cried, "you must take me to Charles Town, I want to feel this again and again, oh!"

"I said quiet!" Tavington hissed. Gripping her hair he turned her face to his and crashed his lips against hers. His eyes rolled in his head with pleasure when he felt her clench around him inside her, she had reached climax with a low groan against his mouth. He continued to thrust into her, and quickly delved back into a new reverie.

_Margaret was pressed up against the wall, her arms wrapped around his neck and moaning in his mouth as he kissed her deeply. Tavington lifted her skirts, reaching up to pull down her petticoats. _

_"Oh, no, William…" Tavington ignored her, roughly pulling the petticoats from her legs. "We must not, I've never done this – "_

_"We must, my love," He countered, again pinning her against the wall. He was already naked, of course, and he picked her up easily and rubbed his length along her moist centre._

_ "Oh William, it feels so good, no one has ever made me feel this before."_

_"Then let me inside you, my sweetheart…" He coaxed in her ear, as he slid himself ever so slightly into her entrance. Her eyes opened wide with fear and astonishment, and she ran her tongue over her lips with anticipation. _

_"You have never known another man, have you Margaret?"_

_"Oh, no… there is only you, there will only ever be you, those other suitors meant nothing, Wilkins means nothing! Please take me, William, enter me!" _

_Tavington smiled and teased her a little, pulling back instead of forward until he saw tears of need fill her eyes. He took pity on his Margie, and plunged her depths all at once. She cried out with the shock of pain, but then started to meet his thrusts wildy, shouting out her love for him, her need for only him. He gripped her hips hard as he pummeled into her, pressing his lips to hers in a long harsh kiss. He ripped open her bodice, and bent his head to her lovely breasts, finding her nipples with his tongue. _

He moaned low in his throat, still gripping Sarah's hair tightly, smashing his hips down, his length going ever deeper. Her tongue dueling his was bliss.

_"Margaret! Oh my Lord, you are so tight, so closed! That's it my sweetheart, buck harder against me, ah, uh ah!"_

_His Margaret smiled at him with joy, gripping his shoulders tight. "Oh what is happening, oh – it is wonderful!" She threw her head back as her climax took her and she screamed his name again and again, her hair flying all about her. _

Tavington smiled, not relaxing his grip on Sarah's hair as he spilled his seed inside her in great spurts.

_"Ah, Margaret, you are my joy, my Sweetheart. Marry me!"_

Tavington's eyes snapped open at that last as he held himself still, deep inside Sarah.

_Where the Devil had THAT come from?_

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


	15. Chapter 15 Bordon the Favorite

**_At Camden - The eve of the battle - August 15, 1780_**

"Damn him! Taking Sarah for the whole night? He did it for no other reason than to piss me off!" Evans fumed to Bordon. They were sitting in Alice's tent drinking a small glass of whiskey. Evans swallowed his in one gulp then poured himself another. "There are not enough girls to go around as it is, especially tonight! I swear, if I miss out on getting my end away, I'll kill him!"

"Calm down, Lieutenant, Sarah said Alice would take care of us. The question is, who gets to go first?" Bordon leaned back on the fold out chair and stretched his long legs before him, crossing them at the ankle.

"I'm paying, I go first."

"Ah, but I'm your commanding officer. And as such, I'm pulling rank."

"There is no rank where women and whores are concerned, _Captain_ Bordy Boy!" Evans rolled his eyes and dug deep into his pocket, pulling out his coin purse out. "Let's toss a coin, you call it. Heads or tails?"

"We could always let the lady choose."

"Hell, look at that little thing - how old is she? She can't be more than fifteen!" Evans sat up tall in his chair to stare through the tent flaps, at the petite black haired girl flirting with Wilkins. "He'll split her in two!"

Bordon took a close look also, and shook his head. "She is no child, Evans. I'd say twenty-five at least. What a pretty thing she is!"

"Whose a pretty little thing?" Alice asked with a smile as she ducked back into her tent.

"Why, you are, sweet Alice!" Evans replied, putting on the charm. He watched as Wilkins put his arm around the little black haired girl. "Wilkins! You'll split her in too, your the size of a fucking ox!"

"Why, thank you!" Wilkins called over his shoulder.

Alice refilled the Officers glasses and poured a whiskey for herself also.

"Perhaps you can help us settle something, Miss Alice?" Bordon asked politely, the whiskey making him bold. He had never been particularly confident and flirtatious with women, Evans had become a very bad influence on him. "We are trying to decide... Ah, that is..." Bordon faltered and drank deeply from his glass as his face flushed with embarrassment.

"What my bashful friend is trying to ask you, sweet Alice," Evans took Alice's hand in his and kissed the top above her fingers. "Is which one of us gets to enjoy your wonderful talents first?"

"Evans wanted to toss a coin... But... I thought you might want to...to decide?" Bordon's flushed deepened, Alice had turned her full attention to him and was gazing at him, her eyes where hooded and she circled a finger around the lip of her whiskey glass.

"Well, that's mighty gentlemanly of you, Captain Bordon," Alice smiled. She dipped her finger into her whiskey and sucked the brown liquid off the tip suggestively. Bordon sighed, his eyes were riveted on her finger as she did it again.

"It is quite hot in here, wouldn't you say?" Alice asked quietly. "Captain, why don't you come and help me out of this bodice?"

Captain Bordon swallowed hard. He rose up on unsteady legs and made his way around the table to stand behind Alice. He did not see the knowing smile she shared with the more worldly Evans.

Once he stood behind her, he lifted her hair and began to unlace her stays. He caught Evans eyes in time for him to read the other mans lips.

'_Slowly_,' Evans mouthed. Bordon nodded. He wasn't completely clueless when it came to women, but he was never able to dispel his shyness no matter how many encounters he had with the opposite sex. He slowly unlaced Alice's bodice, and the started on her stays. Evans had sat back to watch with a small smile, his green eyes where bright.

Once all the ties where unlaced, Bordon glided his fingers under Alice's shift to caress her shoulders gently, then dipped his fingers beneath Alice's bodice to slowly push it down her arms. Alice pulled her arms free and reached up her arms up above her to touch Bordon's face, leaving the top of her bodice to pool in her lap.

Bordon caressed her arms gently and Alice tilted her face up to his as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands settled on her shoulders, massaging her gently.

"Hmm, what a sight," Evans murmured, he leaned forward to pull her stays from her body then sat back before her to enjoy the view. Alice's firm breasts where made higher with her arms raised to dangle around Bordon's neck, her cleavage just visible above the top of her shift. "Take your shift off, darling."

Alice ignored him for the moment, lost as she was to Bordon's kisses. Bordon's hands, still massaging her shoulders dipped lower, he quickly untied the drawstring of Alice's shift and opened it wide to reveal her breasts.

"Ah, perfect," Evans murmured.

"Now shut the fuck up, Lieutenant," Bordon drew back from Alice's lips to command, before resuming his gentle brushing of his lips across hers. Evans gave a bark of startled laughter, but obeyed.

Bordon, still standing behind her, deepened the kiss. Alice, her body twisted around on the chair, held tight to his neck. His hands slowly moved under her breasts to cradle them in his palms, his thumbs reaching up to tease her nipples and knead the flesh.

"You, Captain. I choose you," Alice breathed against his mouth. Bordon shot a victorious glance at a scowling Evans, before turning back to his task of undressing Alice. She tilted her hips up, and Bordon reached lower to push her skirts down her hips as far as he could reach while standing over her. Evans leaned forward to draw them off the rest of the way, down Alice's legs. He bundled them up and tossed them aside before sitting back to continue watching the show. Bordon pulled Alice's shift up slowly, drew it up higher, up over her head. This was discarded on the floor of the tent also.

Bordon pulled back to enjoy the view before him. Alice was completely bare, except for her stockings, which were above her knees and secured by garters. Bordon always enjoyed seeing a beautiful woman in nothing but her stockings and garters.

Bordon was taking his time, his arms were around her body again, his hands back on her breasts as she sat before him, her mouth seeking his for more of his lovely deep kisses. Alice's legs parted involuntarily and she rolled her hips back and forth, though there was nothing for her to rub her core against.

All three of them were breathing heavily, Bordon's erection was aching against his tight breeches.

"My darling," Evans said thickly. "I can see you moisture building..." He pulled his chair closer and dipped his fingers within her folds, searching for her pearl. Alice gasped out loud as Evans fingers quested and explored.

"My dear, stand up," Bordon helped Alice to rise to her unsteady legs. He guided her to the table and she perched on the edge. Evans leaned back and licked his glistening fingers clean of Alice's juices as Bordon sat down in the chair she just vacated. He pulled the chair closer and placed one hand on each of her smooth thighs, to guide them apart gently.

"How does she taste, Evans?" Bordon held Alice's glazed stare with a warm smile.

"Like the nectar of a Goddess," Evans replied.

"Please, Captain. I'm aching... Oh please..." Alice murmured, desperately hoping the Captain would help her achieve the orgasm she usually feigned with the other Officers. Bordon's smile deepened and he leaned in to inhale her scent. His hands where still on her thighs, holding them firmly apart as his tongue began its quest within her folds, parting the flower surrounding her pearl.

"Yes..." He drew back long enough to murmur. "The nectar of a Goddess!"

Alice began to breathe deeply, her eyes where shut as she cradled the back of Bordon's head lightly.

"Oh, yes... Ah..." Lost to the feel of Bordon's tongue on her most sensitive place, she began to moan louder, her breathing grew ragged as warmth began to spread from her centre. Bordon flicked his tongue over her pearl and began to tease two fingers at her entrance.

"Ahhhh," she moaned again and she pushed down hard against Bordon's fingers, forcing them deep inside her. Alice began to rock, slowly at first, back and forth. She leaned back on her elbows and drew her knees up, planting her heels on the table and spreading her legs wide. Bordon increased the pace of his fingers moving within her, plunging them deeply, circling her hardened pearl all the while. He grimaced with pain as Alice gripped his hair tightly with her fingers. She started to cry out as she came.

"Oh, God! Captain! Oh yes, Lord yes!" Alice's face was flushed and she thrashed around under Bordon's tongue, shouting her pleasure for the whole camp to hear before sighing one last, long moan and collapsing back against the table, still breathing heavily.

"I think you've made her one happy lady, Captain Bordy Boy!" Lieutenant Evans said, his voice was thick with pent up pleasure, and no small amount of awe. Bordon cast a quick glance at Evans as he stood to unbutton his breeches, not entirely certain if he could do this in front of the lieutenant.

"How about some privacy, aye Evans?" Bordon suggested before turning back to Alice. She propped herself up on her elbows with a small, satisfied smile on her face as Bordon pulled his breeches around his thighs and stood between her legs.

Evans scowled and left the tent, waiting just outside.

"If you weren't so shy, Captain, I could take care of you both at the same time," Alice smiled as she ran her hands over his chest through his Redcoat. She unbuttoned his coat quickly with deft fingers, and unclasped the belts crossing his chest before drawing his jacket from his broad shoulders. Bordon stood before her in his white ruffled shirt and Alice sat back to eye his chest and shoulders appreciatively through the opening down the front of his shirt. "It is something I only do for my favorite men... And you just became my most favorite..."

"Most favorite?" Bordon murmured, he liked the sound of that. He moved closer to her and nudged the tip of his aching erection to her entrance, sliding into her tight warmth with ease. A long groan escaped his lips with the pleasure of feeling his aching member so encompassed. Alice still had her feet pressed to the table, her legs spread wide, still supporting herself up on her elbows. "I am going to have at you now, Alice," Bordon murmured against her ear. "Do tell me if I'm hurting you."

He leaned forward, planting his hands on the table on either side of her body for support.

"Have at me, my favorite..." Alice whispered with desire, already rocking and circling her hips around his member. Bordon nodded, he drew back until he almost slipped out of her moist cave, and gazed at his glistening member for a moment before plunging back in, pinning her to the table.

With a low growl, he unleashed himself and began bucking in and out of Alice's velvety, tightness roughly, breathing harshly all the while. His forceful pounding moved her further up the table, he gripped her hips and dragged her back to the edge, never ceasing his hard thrusting. Sweat beaded their foreheads and Alice gripped Bordon's broad shoulders and held on tight. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned for dear life as their hips crashed together, apart and together again. The sounds of their cries and the slapping of their skin filled the tent, making Evans, still waiting just outside, moan with aching need and impatience.

Alice felt another climax wash over her, and Bordon groaned low in his throat as her insides clenched and pulsed around his member. He crashed his mouth to hers, his tongue invading and searching for hers as he reached his apex and came hard. The couple collapsed on the table, Bordon had the presence of mind to support his own weight on his hands to keep from crushing her.

Alice rained soft kisses all over his neck and cheek, finally kissing his mouth again. She drew away and placed one hand on either side of his face and gazed into his eyes.

"I do this job out of necessity, Captain," she said earnestly, "And I tell my men anything they want to hear. But Bordon, I need you to know... I am being completely truthful, you are a _bloody_ amazing lover! I haven't come that hard for... Lord, it's been so long! You will make some lucky woman a wonderful husband one day... God!" She collapsed again, laughing as the last of her strength left her. "Simply wonderful." She breathed.

Bordon stared at her with amazement. He _knew_ people, it was his job to search for truth amongst all the lies, and he knew she was telling the simple truth right now. He chuckled with pleasure and kissed her gently before withdrawing from her body. His seed and her moisture dribbled out of her.

"I'm glad I could please you, Alice, truly. Perhaps I could visit you tomorrow night?"

"Oh, yes! But don't leave now. Evans is sweet enough and Lord knows half the girls here think he is a God, but I want you. I told you, I keep something for my favorites..." She smiled suggestively and sat up on the edge of the table.

"What is it?" Bordon asked, his reserve warring desire. Alice's smile deepened to see Bordon's erection already asserting itself so soon. She quirked her eyebrows up and jumped off the edge of the table to the floor, her breasts bouncing. She moved the stool over a little.

"Sit there," she commanded. "Evans! You can come in now."

"About fucking time!" Evans called back, he ducked into the tent quickly, already unbuttoning his breeches.

"Sit there," Alice pointed at the other chair, the two seated men now facing each other with Alice in the middle, standing before Bordon, her back to Evans. Evans stroked her buttocks gently and dipped his fingers between her legs from behind while Bordon gazed at her with anticipation as she smiled and bent over. Evans moved his hands to grip her hips and he guided her to sit on his lap with a groan even as Alice bent further over to begin kissing Bordon's hard member. Bordon was self conscious at first but Evans was lost in the moment, his eyes were closed and he grunted and groaned as he tilted his hips forward and moved Alice down onto his erection.

Bordon shut his eyes and ran his hands gently through Alice's hair. Alice ran her lips along his hardened shaft for a few long minutes, before eventually taking him into her mouth. Her head moved up and down as she suckled him with moist sloppy sounds, her tongue working his erection with expert skill. Before long Bordon forgot Evans was there at all, though the other man had started to pound into Alice, grunting hard and swearing with desire and pleasure.

"Fuck, yes, oh fuck, that's it darling, harder, yes! Fuuuck!" he was bucking her so hard Alice had to grip Bordon's thighs to stay in place, she held tight, not wanting to stop pleasuring her favorite.

Bordon gripped her hair tighter as his climax built, he groaned and pumped his hips up, his erection delving deeper into her mouth. No more niceties now, the tongue swirling had stopped, Bordon was lost to the pleasure of Alice's mouth sucking him hard, she was groaning and panting around his member and Evans cried out "Yes! I can feel it, my darling! Your squeezing me - ahhhhh!"

Alice and Evans came at the same time, and Alice's hands where now free, she no longer had to hold on so tight from Evans' pounding of her. She continued working on Bordon frantically, cupping and squeezing his money purse gently while she sucked his erection. Bordon groaned as he came, his seed spurting into Alice's mouth.

As soon as he came, Alice stood up, sliding off Evans member to sit astride Bordon's lap and began kissing him deeply. Evans, still breathing raggedly stood and collapsed on Alice's cot, leaving Bordon and Alice to explore each others body in the aftermath of their pleasure.

:::::::::::::::::::::

"Do you have a sweetheart, Captain Favorite?" Bordon's head rested on Alice's bosom and she stroked his hair gently.

Bordon smiled and kissed Alice's breasts gently before laying his head on the pillow of her breasts once more. He was unaccustomed to the attention, usually women were so thoroughly engrossed with Tavington and Evans, they did not even know Bordon was there.

However, Alice, holding tight to Bordon's hand, had kicked Evans out of her tent hours ago, sending him stumbling, drunk and completely sated back to his own tent. Bordon had coupled with Alice on her cot before drifting into a contented sleep.

Now the couple lay awake after another passionate round of lovemaking. Bordon tried to gage how close it was to dawn, he would be rising soon to meet Tavington before heading out to battle.

"A sweetheart? No. There is a woman I care for, but... It is complicated."

"It always is..." Alice laughed, then sighed. Bitterly, Bordon thought.

"And you? Is there a sweet heart?" Bordon raised his head to ask her.

"Yes, and if I ever find him I will whip him until he agrees to marry me... If he survives the war, that is. He is a Loyalist soldier, in the infantry, but I've not seen him for a long long time... Never mind that, tell me about her."

She clearly does not wish to speak of it... Bordon shrugged, leaving the woman to her privacy. She was a doxy, after all. Bordon felt guilt well up inside him. He had laid with whores before and he just could not feel poorly toward Alice after the night they had shared.

"She is a beautiful, intelligent, gentle Lady. She is a wonder on the piano - the way her fingers move across the keys, producing such wonderful music..." Bordon sighed. "And her eyes - the most pale blue you have ever seen, her hair as dark as midnight.

"But it can never be..."

"Why ever not?"

"Her brother would not like it, he is quite formidable. If he thought I had designs on his sister, no matter how good my intentions are, I do not know what he would say. And then there is my own family. They would never allow me to marry her, no matter how distinguished her family is, because they have lost all their wealth. I believe she has no dowry."

"Do you love her?"

Bordon was silent for a time, thinking of his feelings for Eleanor Tavington. He had only been able to visit her a few scant times, and never alone. Tavington had always been present, Evans usually was also. The conversation was always stilted, marred by uncomfortable silences unless Tavington and Evans where speaking. But Eleanor would look at him with a small smile, her face would flush and her eyes would dart away, she would pluck at her dresses with her fingers, not wanting him to see how shy she was with him. She was one of the few women that saw _him_, one of the few to not fall to Evans charms.

"Yes, Alice," Bordon sighed. "I love her."

"Well, don't be a fool about it then. A brother? Bah, who cares? She has to marry someone sometime. So do you, and it sounds like your family is one of wealth - do you need her dowry?"

"No, certainly not."

"Well then!" Alice shook her head, amazed at her new favorite's folly. "As soon as I find my man, well, like I said. I won't let any foolishness get in between us, and I don't think he will either. He knows I've had to whore myself but I know he will still take me."

"How do you know?"

"We were childhood sweethearts. I think we were both only thirteen when we laid together for the first time - he had my maidenhead. We aren't from wealthy families, we do not need to follow the usual rules, so yes - I know he will still take me, if he still lives."

"When did you hear from him last?"

"Months ago... I do not even know where he is serving now and I do not think he knows where I am... We will find each other again, though, we always do. For now, though, I have you, my darling favorite, and I want to feel you inside me again before you have to go battle..." Alice moved to sit beside a smiling Bordon and began to stroke his member with her fingers. Alice chuckled, satisfied at how quickly she could bring his staff to full attention.

"Lets dispense the foreplay, dear Alice," Bordon pulled Alice across his body to sit astride him. "Unless you are not ready for me?"

"You must be joking! I'll always be ready for you, Favorite!" Alice laughed. She moved forward and lifted her hips before settling onto his erection. Bordon glided into her with ease and Alice moved up and down his length, slowly at first then faster as the tension of their pleasure built.

"Ah, thats is, Alice," Bordon gripped her hips with a groan and pushed her down on his erection harder, thrusting up deeply, the tip of his member plowed at her canopy. He squeezed her breasts with a firm grip, then used his hold on them to pull her forward for a deep kiss. Alice placed her hands on either side of Bordon's head for support, then crashed her buttocks down in a series of hard strokes, her breathing was ragged.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Evans, dressed impeccable in his uniform, said from the tent flap.

The two lovers had not heard him enter, and Bordon ignored him. He put his arms around Alice's neck and ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face as they continued meeting each other's thrusts, puffing and groaning. The cot squeaked and there was the telltale 'thud thud thud' as the end of the cot hit a small table.

"Tavington wants to see you." Evans said mildly, watching the lovers with interest.

"ah, hah..." Bordon managed, his tongue slid into Alice's mouth. The warmth and tension where gaining intensity, he knew he was not far off.

"Yes, you have been summoned by your _commander_..." Evans rolled his eyes, wondering what had gotten into the usual dutiful Bordon. "Are you not going to _obey_?"

_I've been a bad influence on him. Only last night he would have thrown the woman off and would be frantically searching for his clothes -_

"Would you _shut it up_ Evans!" Alice growled. She grabbed Bordon's hands, in case he had ideas of obeying orders and ceasing their pleasure, and pinned them above his head. Bordon laughed, knowing he could break her hold with ease if he so desired. Her breasts where above his face now, he watched them move up and down as her hips crashed into his.

"Times a ticking." Evans stamped his foot. "You've still got to get dressed, yet."

Bordon closed his eyes as the waves of his pleasure surged through him, he growled as he came. Alice continued to grind against him for a few moments more, before arching her back and crying out. She collapsed against his broad chest, not wanting to move off her wonderful lovers body. If she could stay there for the rest of the year, she would be the happiest of women.

"No time for niceties, people," Evans announced. "Captain, up you get. Where are your clothes?" He started searching the tent for Bordon's uniform, his cravat, shirt, redcoat, breeches, belts, socks, boots...

Bordon sighed and kissed Alice gently before moving her off him. For once he could not care less that Evans had seen him in the throws of passion. He held his head in his hands for a moment, his elbows resting on his knees, before Evans began handing him his clothes.

Bordon dressed quickly, finally pulling on his boots and clasping his sword belt around his waist. Alice quickly pulled his hair back into a queue for him, and wrapped the braid with his black ribbon.

"Come back to me, Favorite," she said with a smile and kissed the nape of his neck before he rose from the cot. Bordon, now standing, leaned over to brush a chaste kiss on her lips, then chuckled when she placed her hand on his crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I will see you tonight, Miss Alice."

With that, Bordon left the tent. He shrugged the wonderful nights events from his shoulders as he approached Colonel Tavington's tent, and by the time he entered, with Evans at his side, he had become Captain Bordon again, ready to ride at his commanders side into battle and into Hell.

:::::::::::::::::::::

_A/N- money purse is another way of saying testicles... :-)_


	16. Chapter 16 Battle of Camden

Camden August 16th

_Well that was unexpected,_ Tavington thought as he dressed himself in the dark hours the following morning. Sarah lay on his cot, fast asleep. It had been a long night for her. Tavington had been so surprised at the turn of his imaginings, he had taken the girl again and again, insatiable with his need to regain control of his fantasies.

He had gripped her breasts firmly as she sat astride him, plowed into her when she lay beneath him, even taken her roughly from behind. He had gripped her hair as she knelt before him to pleasure him with her mouth, he lost track of the amount of times he climaxed.

_I wonder if she still wants to be my mistress now._ He thought snidely as he looked down at her, her hair disheveled, her limbs akimbo, she slept the sleep of exhaustion. He was not entirely selfish, he had given her pleasure during the night also, but had certainly been rough, even brutal while he was taking his.

He had finally let the woman fall asleep, collapsing exhausted beside her and in just a few hours he was awake again, his calm and composure restored.

Tavington had realized a while ago that he was in love with Margaret, but he had been in love before and thought it was no different this time. He imagined he would move on from her after a bittersweet farewell, as the army made their way from South Carolina to North Carolina.

_Cornwallis is married, as is O'hara. Come to think of it, all of Cornwallis' entourage of gentlemen Officers are married, even Rawdon..._ Tavington reasoned to himself._ No. Marriage is not a part of my plans_, _it has no place in my military ambitions_.

_Evans is ready to settle down, with Miss Thompson. If mother had her way I would be married to Miss Caroline Tennant and her thirty thousand... Margaret has her own wealth - investments abroad as well. And she is close friends with Miss Thompson. If we were to marry, and live close by with Evans and Miss Thompson... _

In his minds eye, he pictured he and Margaret sharing enjoyable evenings with Evans and his wife, who Tavington admired well enough. He shook his head to dispel the image and began buttoning his breeches. _Now is not the time, I have a battle to win for God's sake!_

He pushed thoughts of Margaret and marriage away as he turned his mind to the coming battle.

:::::::

"Gentlemen, good luck," Lord Cornwallis said finally. He had given a passionate speech as their final military conference came to an end. There had been no last minute changes to their battle deployment, the enemy was arranged as expected.

Lord Rawdon was to be in command of the left wing of Cornwallis' force. His force comprised of Irish volunteers and Tavington's infantry and Loyalist troops, borrowed from his British Legion. As they would face the well trained Continental Infantry, Tavington was concerned Rawdon would be hard pressed when the battle began.

Lt. Colonel Webster who would take the right wing, would be facing inexperienced rebel militia, he had boasted during the conference that morning, of how easy the battle would be. He suspected the militia would break and run as soon as the fighting started and Tavington was inclined to agree with him.

Tavington and his cavalry force, the Green Dragoons, were to be held in reserve along with two battalions, the 71st Regiment of Foot.

The Officers filed out of the command tent to take up their positions and Tavington strode around the camp barking orders, snapping at anyone who was careless enough to earn his ire. The camp was a hive of activity, and tension.

"What is keeping Bordon!" Tavington snapped at Wilkins. The Loyalist Captain was sitting astride his restless horse waiting patiently with the men under his command behind him.

"I am sure he will be here soon, Sir." Wilkins said reasonably. He sensed it was the coming battle that caused Colonel Tavington's tension and foul mood, not Captain Bordon's tardiness. They were not quite ready to ride out in any case, Bordon still had time.

The sounds of hoofbeats pounding the dirt drew the men's attention, they both turned to watch Bordon and Evans approach, barely visible in the pre-dawn.

"There you are! What kept you?" Tavington snapped.

"Sir -"

"Alice kept him," Evans quipped.

"The doxy, hmm?" Tavington drew a deep breath and gazed at his nervous Captain coldly. Finally he relented. "Very well. She makes a better excuse than most, at least we did not have to drag you out off your cot and dunk you in a trough to wake you." Tavington shot a hard glance at Evans, who had the grace to blush - he even managed to look contrite.

"I did not drink that much..." He muttered.

"And yet we almost drowned you, trying to get you awake and on your feet!" Mason laughed behind Wilkins. "How you can act like this - right before a battle! Lord."

"No better time for it, Mason old chap! You should have sought your pleasure last night, we all did!" Mason spluttered at Evans suggestion, he would never be unfaithful to his Claire!

The banter of the men calmed Tavington's nerves, his tension drained from him. The pre-dawn sky was brightening by the moment, it was time to take up their position.

"Captain Bordon, order the Dragoons to ride, we are leaving now." Tavington set his spurs to his horses flanks and the mare was away at a gallop. He could hear the thunder of hoofbeats behind him, his men following him to the field of battle.

A short time later, dawn broke over the sky and the Dragoons where watching from their restless horses. Tavington had an excellent view of the battle field, he could clearly see the enemy deployment as well as their own. Rawdon and Webster were in position, with four guns in the British centre.

"No wind," Bordon muttered beside him. "When this starts, we won't be able to see a damned thing with the smoke from the guns."

Tavington nodded with agreement. "Let us hope Cornwallis' messengers are not intercepted, we will be blind without them."

For now, however, from Tavington's vantage, he could see clearly as their own troops opened the battle. The British right flank fired a cannon volley into the a unit of rebel militia, the cannons shot across the field into the American lines, cutting paths directly through the troops. He watched dispassionately as limbs were torn from bodies, some men were torn in half, and blood coated the field. The Green Dragoons could hear the screams of pain and fear rising from the Patriots.

Tavington glanced over his shoulder when he heard one of his own men retching, there was a sloppy sound as vomit hit the ground.

"It's alright lad, no shame in it. This is my first battle too," Mason reached over and slapped the young Dragoon's shoulder. When the lad, of no more than seventeen Tavington guessed, sat up again he looked decidedly green. Tavington nodded at the boy who gave him a tremulous smile, clearly embarrassed to have unmanned himself in front of these seasoned soldiers, especially in front of Colonel Tavington himself.

"No shame in it, lad," Tavington agreed, then turned back to watch the field. He was not concerned about the soldier, he had trained and drilled the Loyalist troops relentlessly - when they entered the battle, the boy would not fail, Tavington knew.

Next came the bayonet charge. Tavington shared a smirk with Bordon as the untrained rebel militia broke and ran before the charge even reached them, as Tavington had suspected they would.

"Webster is certainly having an easy time of it!" Bordon said.

"Yes, he boasted this would happen in council this morning," Tavington turned to Wilkins. "This is why I am so exacting when training the Loyalists, Wilkins. I do not wish my men to break and run - or to be slaughtered when they are caught."

"I've not heard any complaints from our troops, Sir, they all understand the need for strict discipline and hard training."

"Lord, is that Gates - is he fleeing?!" Bordon was astounded.

Sure enough, when Tavington turned back, he witnessed a blur racing across the field, away from the battle, the mounted rider, the Commander Horatio Gates was over taking his fleeing rebels, in his need to get away. Tavington began to laugh, as did his fellow Dragoons.

"They are panicking now," Tavington's laughter died but he was still filled with mirth as more rebel milita broke their ranks and fled the field, the first wave of the battle was over within minutes!

And then the canons started again, the guns in the centre of the British troops. The smoke from the artillery covered the field and with no wind to disperse it, Tavington was, indeed, blind. He could hear the screams of men and horses, and of course the canon explosions, but he could not see a thing.

His horse danced nervously beneath him, sensing his mounting unease and tension.

"I can't see a damned thing! Were are those messengers? What is happening down there! Rawdon will be hard pressed, he isn't facing militia, but seasoned and well trained regulars!" Tavington ranted. His Captains had no answers for him, their faces reflected his own concern and nerves.

"Messenger, Sir!"

Tavington twisted his horse around, then galloped forward to meet the messenger as he raced toward him.

"Report!" Tavington snapped.

"Sir! The Continentals have formed a resistance, the right flank have attacked our force, the Rawdon's left wing almost faltered, however Colonel Webster has rushed to his aid, he launched a bayonet charge into the Continental's left flank in the centre. Cornwallis commands you to hold your position."

"Thank you, Private." Tavington dismissed the troop and returned to his position at the head of his Dragoons.

"We are to hold our position, lads," Tavington announced, though inside he seethed with the need to fight. He could feel the battle lust building, his vision had narrowed and was turning red with it. He tried to control his impatience, his need to charge his Dragoons into the fray. It did not help that he still had no visibility, the smoke had not cleared, it increased with each bullet shot from a musket, and with each canon fired.

Finally another messenger came galloping toward them.

"Sir! There are approximately eight hundred Patriots still fighting, against two thousand of our troops. Cornwallis wants this battle finished off now, he does not want to suffer heavy losses caused by a prolonged fight. He commands that you rout the remaining American force, but you are to show quarter to surrendering troops."

Tavington, exultant at finally being able to join the fray, raised his sword high and shouted "Charge!", spurring his horse into a gallop. The messenger had to twist his horse away to avoid colliding with the full force of Green Dragoons as they thundered toward the battle, to the rear of the Continental line.

They spread out quickly, breaking up the enemies formation, and tore through the Continental rank.

In full battle fury, his vision awash with red, Tavington raised his saber high and slashed at anything that moved. He hacked into troops - their arms, their legs, wherever he could reach with his long sword. He glanced up to see Bordon and Evans close by, though Wilkins was closer. All of the Dragoons had crashed amongst the Continental troops, some of them turned to give a token resistance.

Blood spurted from an infantry soldier as Tavington slashed down at his face, he died quickly, his attempt at firing his pistol into Wilkins back thwarted. Wilkins had turned in time to see, he stared at Tavington wide eyed. The Colonel nodded curtly and continued on, killing and maiming. His horse slipped and skidded in the blood soaked dirt.

Sweat stung his eyes, and the stench of blood was strong in his nostrils. Still he fought on, routing the enemy who finally broke and fled the field.

"Wilkins! Bordon! Give the order - follow them! We give chase!" Tavington screamed and suited his words by chasing after the feeling rebels.

The Dragoons crashed after the Patriots, killing without exception, even those who dropped their weapons and raised their arms in surrender. They continued on for a good twenty miles before finally drawing rein.

The Dragoons and their horses where sweat slicked and breathing heavily.

"We rest the horses before returning, rub them down, feed them - take them down to the stream. We will return to camp in half an hour," Tavington did not wait to see if his command was carried out, he dismounted, took off his plumed helmet and walked down to the stream to splash his face with water. His hands came away bloody, it was then he noticed the sting on his cheek near his ear, he did not even remember taking any cuts. The deep gauges were painful but he ignored it as he rose to check his men.

Wilkins was walking back toward him.

"Any wounded, Captain? Any casualties?"

"No casualties, Sir. Wounded, yes, but none seem very serious. Surface scratches, nothing more."

"Excellent, what of you? I do not even remember when this happened," Tavington held a handkerchief to his face, it was already soaked through with blood. Wilkins handed him a clean one.

"No, Sir, I am fine. Thanks to you, that Continental would have shot me in the back." Mason came to join them, he moved slowly as though hurt, but Tavington suspected he was merely tired and feeling the effects of his first battle. Wilkins was handling his first battle experience well, which Tavington admired.

"That is the way of battle, Wilkins. No honor or niceties there. You did not expect him to shout you a warning, did you?"

"No, Sir, I don't suppose I did," Wilkins smiled, then began to laugh, a release of tension.

"You did well, as did you, Mason. You have all done well." Tavington nodded at the Loyalist men, then strode away to search for Evans, who he had not seen for some time. He was relieved to find his friend unhurt.

The Green Dragoons rested for the full half hour, before mounting their tired horses and making their slow way back to camp.

Tavington and Bordon headed straight away to the command tent, to brief Lord Cornwallis.

_Now that was a battle, Margaret. And you wish me to write you of it? _He shook his head as he dismounted in front of the command tent. He removed his helmet and handing his reins to a waiting officer, Bordon following suit. The blood from his gouges had dried to a hard crust, though Tavington did not bother to wipe it away as he ducked into the tent.

Cornwallis was present, with O'Hara, Rawdon, Webster and many of Cornwallis' other administrators. And Cornwallis' dogs, Tavington saw, his eyes widening with disdain. He could not understand his Lordships love for the animals. Enjoying a pet was one thing, but to have a portrait commissioned for them? Then again, Tavington had never received a gift from His Majesty the King, maybe that was made the dogs so special.

"My Lord General, gentlemen," Tavington coolly addressed the others. "A glorious day to His Majesty."

If he had been expecting a hero's welcome, he was sorely disappointed. Cornwallis instantly started to reprimand him, in a quiet voice.

"Ah, Tavington. Always too eager for glory."

"For victory, my Lord?" Tavington asked, looking bemused. "I believe we won the field."

"Yet again, you have failed to show quarter. I have had word, you continued to battle against Continental troops who had begged surrender, despite my command that you show mercy."

"We have been hearing rumors, Colonel," General O'Hara added with a concerned voice. "You are not helping your reputation with this behavior."

"General O'Hara tells me you have earned the nickname 'the Butcher' among the local populace. We will discuss it tomorrow." Lord Cornwallis said, when Tavington was about to speak in his defense.

Lord Cornwallis, always the gentleman and with his reprimand done, waved a servant to pass a glass of wine to Tavington and Bordon. Tavington, after all, had never lost a battle and his capture of Moncks Corner was instrumental in securing Charles Town. The unpleasantness of Waxhaws, Tavington suspected, would forever mar his career.

Cornwallis raised his goblet in the air, "Gentlemen, my compliments. To victory!"

"To victory!" His men said as one.

"To victory!" Tavington murmured in a subdued voice.

:::::::::::::::

The following morning, Tavington strode briskly to Lord Cornwallis' command tent, to meet with the man and receive the rest of his reprimand, or so Tavington assumed. He entered the tent and, to his surprise, was greeted cordially by Lord Cornwallis, who was seated at a food laden table for breakfast.

"Sit, sit, Colonel Tavington, I have no wish to strain my neck. Have you eaten? No? Help yourself."

Tavington hid his surprise, and helped himself to a small helping - he did not have a particularly large appetite.

"Where is General O'Hara, my Lord? I thought he would be joining us."

"No, I wished to speak with you alone. I am not a foolish man, I can well see your worth. You are an exemplary soldier, and you may even find yourself holding position of General yourself one day."

Tavington stared at Cornwallis, both surprised and pleased. "Thank you My Lord. My only wish is to serve."

"However," Cornwallis continued firmly. "Your tactics of late leave much to be desired. Colonel, you are an ambitious man, I know this. Surely you must see how your brutal tactics are damaging your career? Not only that - you failed to obey - I gave you a direct order to show quarter!"

Tavington lowered his eyes, he had nothing to say in his defense, he had, indeed failed to obey Lord Cornwallis' order.

"We are returning to Charles Town," Lord Cornwallis continued when Tavington held his silence. "It seems that the illustrious Commander and Chief has decided to desert his post for the luxury of New York." Tavington raised his eyebrows at the venom in Cornwallis' tone.

"It's nothing," Cornwallis sighed and waved his comment away. "He is going to oversee command from New York, and we will take control of the South. We will remain until we have more intelligence, but at this stage I plan to send you back here, to track down the rebel militia, they are making such a nuisance of themselves."

"What of your concerns for my new 'nickname' My Lord? The Butcher, I think you said?"

"Yes, well, perhaps I was hasty. I had heard of you being called Butcher before yesterday, of course, but with General O'Hara's latest telling... Agh! It matters not." Cornwallis waved his hand again and smiled, "you will strike fear into the heart of the rebels, Tavington. I want South Carolina subdued, the sooner we move into North Carolina, the better. You will be my eyes and ears, when you are back here routing the rebels Colonel, I will be blind to events with out you. Send as many notes and missives as you are able, when you return here."

"Certainly my Lord." Tavington replied.

"And do not venture too far out, always remain in a few days ride of me, in case I have need of you. But for now Charles Town!" Cornwallis smiled brightly. "I am sure some of the wealthier Colonials will throw a ball or two in my honor, I find them quite diverting."

Tavington curled his lip slightly, "Yes, My Lord, I well remember. I am not so fond of them myself, and the colonial hosted ones will pale in comparison to the ones held in London!"

"Ah, but I have been secluded in this back water for too long, lad. I want to dance with some beautiful women of quality. I've heard there are a few of those in Charles Town!"

"That there are, my Lord," Tavington smiled, thinking of Margaret. "Do I need to remind you that you are a married man?"

"Do I need to remind you that we are at war and my wife is _very_ far away?" Lord Cornwallis smiled lustfully. "Who knows when we'll return... In her last letter she asked if she could come to me here... It always astonishes me, how little women know of war, does she not realize the dangers? Especially after that tragic incident a couple few ago - I am sure you heard of it, the mistress of General Burgoyne was attacked and killed by Indian warriors! What was her name? Oh yes, Miss McCrea. Quite shocking. No, my beloved wife must stay in England, where she is safe..."

"I quite agree," Tavington replied.

"I have heard there is a beautiful woman waiting for you in Charles Town, Colonel Tavington! Though it does not surprise me, there usually is a woman pining for you somewhere! Ah, to be young again!"

"You are not much past forty years, my Lord!" Tavington scoffed, but otherwise remained silent.

"You are not going to tell me about her?" Cornwallis smiled. "It must be serious!"

Tavington opened his mouth to demure, but he was saved, by General O'Hara's entrance. The subject quickly changed, and Tavington was released to return to his duties and start making preparations to return to Charles Town.

He returned to his tent and called for his Green Dragoon senior officers, Captain Bordon and Captain Wilkins.

"The Legion is to return to Charles Town with Lord Cornwallis, though only for a short time. Cornwallis has charged us with returning here to rout out the Ghost and squash the rebel resistance. Captain Wilkins, do you believe there are any more men in this area who will willingly join the rebel militia?"

"Yes, Sir. There are a few men of my acquaintance that I wish to approach, perhaps I can do so and return to Charles Town in a week or so? Or I can stay here with a small force, rout rebels and join you when you return."

Tavington hesitated. _Tempting_... He thought, keeping Wilkins out of Charles Town indefinitely? Ridding himself of his rival for Margaret's affections...

Tavington shook his head and chided himself at his pettiness.

"No, Captain. Approach these men you make mention of, and return to Charles Town. Though if you are able to gather information on the rebels before your return, it will be much to the good, but I would rather you hurry back as quickly as possible.

"Bordon you will accompany me, and Wilkins, you will keep half the Dragoons here with you - giving you a force of 125 men. Unless you think you need more? The Ghost has a good 100 men following him, and much of the militia that broke today will head to him now."

"Yes, Sir, perhaps you are right. Two hundred Dragoons, if you will allow? My plantation is not far from here, I will make it a base for operation. With your permission, I would like to escort my family from the plantation to Charles Town, my sister and mother are defenseless out here in the back country."

Tavington nodded and waved it away, it was no moment to him if Wilkins used the Dragoons as escort to protect his family.

_Authors note - okay, so I've changed some of the things that bothered me in the command tent with Cornwallis. Tarleton was Cornwallis' protege, Cornwallis had taken Tarleton under his wing, so I think I would prefer Cornwallis and Tavington to have a better relationship than they did in the Patriot. Also, General O'Hara - he is Tavington's superior, for crying out loud! I believe they would have had a better working relationship also. It always bothered me, that Cornwallis effectively snubbed Tavington, did not invite him to join the toast after all his efforts... So I have changed that also._

_Most of the details for my battle for Camden were taken from Wiki and other sources..._


	17. Chapter 17 - Reunion in Charles Town

A weary and travel stained Tavington led the small detachment of Green Dragoons into the courtyard around the back of Margaret's manor. He climbed wearily out of the saddle and was busy unbuckling his small rucksack when Margaret appeared as if from nowhere, throwing herself into his arms, laughing and weeping at the same time.

"Oh, it is so good to have you home," she ran her hands all over his chest and down his arms. "Are you well? Are you hurt? Tell me you are fine!" She demanded, then gripped him around the back of his neck and pulled his face forward to hers, kissing him soundly.

_How can I answer her questions when she will not let me speak!_ Tavington thought, though he certainly did not mind. He wrapped his arms around her small waist, pulling her against his body eagerly, returning her kiss with passion.

His Dragoons watched, stunned by the display initially, though they had suspected for some time that there was something between him and Margaret. Bordon and Evans had been the only ones to know for certain, until now. The Officers went inside, leaving Colonel Tavington to his reunion in privacy.

"Oh Lord, I've been so worried, Colonel!" Margaret breathed against his mouth.

"You need not have, my poor darling. It was a sounding victory - a rout, and I am returned safe and sound, as you can see."

"I can't see anything of the sort, perhaps we should retire to our room where I can inspect you?" Mischief lit her eyes.

"Hmm, you naughty thing. Though I concede it is a rather good idea," smiling broadly, he brushed his lips against hers.

"A bath, I think - you stink of horse," she wrinkled her nose.

"An inspection _in_ the bath, this is getting better and better," his lips moved to her neck, suckling gently and brushing his along her skin, a warm caress.

"Oh, you make my knees weak," she sighed and clung to him. "How I have longed for you!"

Tavington growled with pleasure and he nipped her neck playfully. Giggling, she pushed him away, her lips claiming his once more.

"You have longed for me, sweet Margie?" His tone was taunting and he began walking her backward toward the large shed that served as the Dragoon's stables.

"I have," she murmured, her heart pounded and an ache bloomed between her legs. Darkness closed in around them and Tavington kicked the large door closed, walking her backwards deeper into the barn until her back was pinned against the far wall.

He drew back to consider her, smiling to see her glazed eyes filled with need. Placing one hand to the wall on either side of her, he leaned in close to her ear.

"You need me?" He taunted, his lips brushed the shell of her ear. She gasped and nodded, lowering her hand between their bodies to press her palm against his erection through his breeches.

"Ahhh," he groaned, pushing forward against her hand. "Tell me darling," he moved back to her lips, caressing them gently with his. "What do you require of me, sweet Margie?"

"Oh, Lord, you are cruel to make me say it!" Her breathing became heavy, almost ragged and her palm moved against his hardness with firm circles. "Your hands, Colonel, oh please - I need your hands on me, I need you to touch me. Darling, it has been too long!"

"Where?" he smirked knowingly, his smile _was _cruel. "Here?" Drawing away further, he moved his hand slowly over her bodice, down her chest, over her stomach, lower until he cupped her between her legs through her skirts.

"Mmnnn," a desperate groan, she pushed hard forward against his hand.

Minutes ticked by as the two rubbed each other through their clothes, their heavy breathing and the soft sounds of kissing filled the barn.

"Are you ready for something more, darling?" He murmured.

"Oh, yes," She nodded, biting her lip, her eyes where bright with need.

Tavington began to slowly lift her skirts, and Margaret held them up when they were around her waist. "My hand, right here, you say?" His voice, thick with desire, he ran his fingers lightly through her triangle of golden curls.

"Oh yes, Sweet Colonel... Right there..."

"I think I can do better than my hand though, darling." He smiled at her bemused expression as he lowered himself to kneel before her. "I think our reunion deserves something a little more... special."

"What in the world are you doing?" she asked, gazing down at him, eyebrows raised.

"This..." he murmured, leaning forward to inhale her sweet scent. "Keep your skirts high, darling." He glanced up, catching her gaze and she nodded gravely, her eyes wide with anticipation. He explored her gently, his fingers moving from her curls, lower to her folds, caressing gently. He felt her shiver above him. Parting her folds carefully to reveal her hard quim, he had touched it so often before but never seen it. With an appreciative sigh, he leaned forward to kiss her, to taste her.

Margaret's shocked gasp made Tavington smile. Such a lusty, needful creature she was, but so innocent of the glorious ways of making love. He caressed her quim with the tip of his tongue, circling, pressing, and she melted back against the wall.

Her hips began to rock gently, and her hands came around his head to caress his hair, breathing deeply as she enjoyed this wonderful new feeling. A thrilling warmth pulsed between her legs, a lovely tension, building steadily. Pleasurable jolts in her stomach and along her spine had her smiling and sighing.

He moved two fingers down toward her entrance, circling and spreading her moisture without entering. Margaret began to moan quietly, her head thrown back, she pushed her hips forward as the thrilling warmth mounted.

"Mmnmm, ohhh," she moaned and cooed, the lovely tension almost at its height. Tavington kept up his circling of her quim, over and around, over and around,

She would be floating soon, the tension would break and the thrilling heat would spread through her in waves, flooding her body with pleasure and pure sensation. Suddenly in need for that wonderful release, Margaret leaned over him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she rotated her hips, pushing forward against his tongue and fingers, a long, low moan escaping her lips as her climax washed over her, pulsing through her.

Her knees felt weak, she pressed back against the wall, her eyes closed as her climax abated, leaving a lovely, warm glow.

Lowering her skirts, Tavington moved back up her body and wrapped his hands around her waist. Her head was turned to the side, eyes closed, breathing deeply as she slowly came back to herself.

"So," Tavington said finally, and she slowly turned to face him with glazed eyes. "Did you miss me?"

Margaret's sigh became a rich deep laugh. Leaning forward to kiss him deeply, she replied, "You have no idea!" she reached down to unbutton his breeches, and pull forth his aching member. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched her own fingers stroking him.

"I have missed this, too," she murmured and firmly wrapped her fingers around his erection, tugging him gently.

"Darling," Tavington groaned. "I need to move against you."

Pulling her skirts up again, he guided her legs apart with his hand, and positioned himself between her thighs. "My sweet Margie, I will not enter you..."

Margaret nodded, trusting, and draped her arms over his shoulders. With a heavy sigh, he rocked his hips back and forward, gliding his erection along her folds, rubbing her sensitive quim. He bent his knees and angled lower, pushing his erection down between her legs.

"Close your legs darling," he murmured his instruction. With her legs closed and his erection encompassed, he glided back and forth along her moist entrance.

Holding her in a tight embrace, he kissed her deeply, his tongue circling hers. He moaned quietly into her mouth as they moved their hips in perfect rhythm. Tension mounted as warmth became fire, pulsing through his veins.

"Ah, oh God, Margie," he groaned and moved faster. "Agh.. Lord!" He was almost there, almost at his apex. Still kissing her deeply, he pressed his body forward, pinning her to the wall with his chest. Placing one hand on either side of her head, he braced himself against the wall and began to buck back and forth, hard, forceful movements.

The tip of his member caught her entrance and Margaret, lost in her own pleasure, pushed down on him, ready to take him inside her.

"Control, remember?" Tavington gasped raggedly as he jerked back from her. She laughed her rich, musical laugh and he growled low in his throat. "Vixen," he moaned and nipped at her lip gently with his teeth. When he was sure she would behave, he began moving again, was soon bucking frantically, desperate for release.

His heart pounded in his chest, his kisses became clumsy. His pouch constricted and suddenly fire coursed through him, along his erection and through his body. He threw his head back, his face twisted with pleasure and he growled a long, low growl through his gritted teeth as his climax raged through him. He spilled his seed on her thighs, then held her against him, kissing her slowly now their needs had been sated.

A short time later, the calmed couple walked hand in hand from the darkness of the barn into daylight once more.

"You should not have done that, you realize..." Margaret said happily as they headed toward the house.

"No? You did not like it?"

"Entirely too much! I will want you to do it again now, and again..."

Tavington turned her to face him, and kissed her gently. "It will be my pleasure, sweet Margie. And if you are willing I would like to teach you to do the same to me."

"Lets go to our room, then, Colonel. We shall bathe and then..." Margaret smiled and blushed. "You can teach me to please you."

"You already please me," his murmured in a very serious tone and he nipped at her neck again.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Lord Cornwallis and the Redcoat's had only been back in Charles Town a day or so, before invitations were sent out for a ball to be held at the Middleton mansion, in a few days time. The ball was the talk of Charles Town, everyone was excited to be attending.

Except for Claire Mason. Margaret had visited with her twice since the Redcoats had returned, and Claire was beside herself with worry - her husband had not returned to her. She knew he was safe for now, he was with Wilkins recruiting Loyalists to the militia, but she missed him terribly and felt she would not enjoy herself at the ball at all. It did not help that her emotions were in full swing, as she was, after so long trying, finally carrying their second child child.

Margaret sipped her cup of tea, being in a state of contentment herself, having Tavington back was simply wonderful. And the new pleasures he had bought with him! She could not help but sigh with a silly smile on her face, remembering her lover kneeling between her legs, kissing and tasting her with his tongue so deliciously as she moaned and writhed above him.

"Margie! What in the world is the matter with you? You are not listening to a word I am saying!" Claire snapped. Margaret did not remember her friend being so churlish when she was carrying Amelia. She was barely fit company at all at the moment, she said the most horrible things.

"I'm listening! I know you miss Mr. Mason terribly..."

"And I was asking if you miss Wilkins! But no, judging by that ridiculous smile on your face, all you are thinking about is that Colonel Tavington, and never mind that Wilkins is still out there, with my husband, risking his life, under threat from rebels!"

Margaret stared at Claire with astonishment. Simple, nasty jibes where one thing, but this?

"Of course I miss James! I am worried for him -"

"Yes, I can tell you are, that coy smile and your contented sighs tell me exactly how very much Wilkins is in your thoughts right now. "

"Claire..!" Margaret took a deep breath, feeling deeply hurt. She did care for James, but Colonel Tavington was _all consuming_. Claire could not know of course, she had not confided to her friend the true nature of her 'relations' with the Colonel. "That is a horrible thing to say. I do care for James, very much! But I received a letter from him, just this morning, so I know he is well."

"Ah, so you can go back to daydreaming all about your dear Colonel then?" Claire snapped, "now you know James is well. How old is that letter, however? From before the battle was fought, I suspect. I wonder, if he was well yesterday, is he still well today? They are dying out there, Margaret! Our men!"

"Perhaps I should leave," Margaret said, placing her cup and saucer on the table and rising.

"Oh yes, leave. That is just wonderful. Is your Colonel home today? Waiting for you? Hurry back now, perhaps you can find a quiet corner to kiss and flirt, while my husband, and your _future_ husband, are shot at by rebels."

Her eyes flashing, Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but Claire was not finished.

"When are you going to decide, Margaret? It is so cruel of you, to leave James hanging like this, while you are dallying with Tavington all the while."

_I am so glad I never told her we do more than kiss! _Margaret raged, as she strode from Claire's parlor. _I do care for James! I would hate it if anything should happen to him! But he made his choice to serve the Loyalist Militia and Tavington is here and he is so... Lord!_

She had never fought with Claire before, the older woman had never admonished her regarding her feelings for Tavington, and had never spoken to her so harshly of James. Her friends words cut deeply, however, and she soon pulled a handkerchief from her pockets and dabbed at her eyes as tears of anger and an equal measure of shame, began to fall.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The day of the ball dawned bright and clear. Poor dear Maisy was worked off her feet helping her mistress to prepare. Margaret had a lovely gown of yellow silk, with light blue embroidery, and blue underskirts. Maisy worked for almost two hours on Margaret's hair alone. Tavington, to Margaret's dismay, took a mere hour to prepare. He bathed, combed his hair back into his usual cue, shaved, put on his dress uniform and just like that he was ready. He sat back on a chair in Margaret's room, watching with a small smile as Maisy worked the finishing touches to Margaret's hair.

Eventually it was time to go. Margaret, Tavington, Bordon and Evans climbed into her carriage, the other Dragoons rode their mounts slowly behind them. It was not a long journey, perhaps half an hour later the group were entering the large foyer of the Middleton's mansion.

The room was crowded with people. In small groups, the invitees were greeted by their hosts before making their way to the ballroom and other parts of the mansion. The Green Dragoons split off in all directions, seeking acquaintances and dance partners, leaving Margaret to wander slowly through the crowd with Tavington at her side. She stopped now and again to chat with friends and to introduce them to Tavington.

It was a puzzle to her, her lover had become cool and distant, completely unlike the man she had come to know. Many of her acquaintances cast pointed looks and arched eyebrows her way, but she could do no more than shrug and smile.

"Oh, there they are, our hosts. We must greet them."

"Then we shall greet them," he offered her his arm.

_Lord, the gossips are going to have fun with this! _Margaret sighed, accepting his arm.

She spied Lieutenant Evans speaking with Mary and her parents, he seemed oddly attentive. She caught Mary's eye and arched an eyebrow at her friend and Mary smiled back before returning her attention to the handsome Lieutenant.

"Colonel? Has Lieutenant Evans ever mentioned Miss Thompson to you? He is speaking with her father over there."

"Yes, he regards her, he speaks of her far too often. Here, our turn," Tavington stepped forward to greet first Mrs. Middleton, then her husband. Lord Cornwallis was standing with them also, Margaret had not met him before. She made small talk with Mrs. Middleton, complimenting the older woman on her lovely gown, before Tavington cleared his throat to gain her attention.

He turned to Cornwallis. "My Lord, may I present to you Miss Margaret Putman? The Dragoons and I are billeted in her residence."

"Miss Putman," Lord Cornwallis greeted her, dignified and proper. Polite. "Are you enjoying your evening? I enjoy attending balls myself, a delightful diversion."

"Yes, My Lord, I am certainly enjoying myself. Mrs. Middleton has outdone herself again," Margaret deliberately drew Mrs. Middleton into the conversation. A confident woman usually, Margaret found it rather intimidating meeting a man of such high rank. An Earl at that.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Putman," Mrs. Middleton smiled. "It has been such a challenge, but I am proud of the result. Everyone seems quite content. But dear, here you are alone - where is your Mr. Wilkins? I thought he would be here."

Tavington stiffened beside her, Margaret was hardly alone, after all.

"_Captain_ Wilkins, Mrs. Middleton," Margaret smiled. "He is still in the back country, I am not sure when he is due back."

"Captain _James_ Wilkins?" Lord Cornwallis asked. "A good fellow! I recruited him into the Dragoons myself. He has distinguished himself admirably. Are you an acquaintance of his, Miss Putman?"

"Yes, we are good friends."

"Oh, listen to you. 'Good friends' indeed! Do not be so modest," Mrs. Middleton chided her, and turned to Cornwallis to explain. "Miss Putman will one day be Mrs. Wilkins, my Lord, it is all but settled."

Margaret kept her composure, wrapping dignity around her like a cloak. A difficult achievement with a suddenly chilly Colonel at her side.

"Nothing is settled, Mrs. Middleton." _Has she been drinking? What has possessed her!_

Pushing aside her nerves, she turned to Cornwallis in an attempt to change the subject. "My Lord, you must be pleased to be enjoying this small respite from the war. Charles Town has so many diversions, though I can imagine how small it must appear when compared with London."

"It's a luxury, being in your Charles Town, I can find no fault with it, not even its smaller size." The Gentleman flowed with the change of subject expertly, though she saw him shoot Tavington a questioning, puzzled glance.

The Colonel joined the conversation, they spoke politely for a few minutes more, then Tavington led Margaret deeper into the mansion.

"Shall we join Mary and Evans?" She asked, she had spied them making their way amongst the small groups.

"No, darling. Let us go through there," he pointed toward a door leading outside. "Get some fresh air."

"Colonel," she rolled her eyes heavenward. "I am not going to spend the entire evening, secluded in some quiet corner alone with you! This is a ball, for heaven's sake. We are here to dance, to meet with old friends, to make new acquaintances, to have _fun_."

"You don't think being in a secluded corner alone with me would be fun?" He looked down his nose at her – or tried to, they were the same height after all.

"Yes, it would be quite enjoyable, but it is not what we are here for. The gossips are going to be talking about us as it is! We can't be seen wandering off alone into the night."

Tavington tightened his lips.

"I hardly care what gossips have to say about us..." He said curtly. "Perhaps they will cease this talk of you and _Wilkins_. 'It is all but settled'," he repeated Mrs. Middleton's words stiffly.

Before she could frame a reply, a young man of Margaret's acquaintance came over to ask her to dance. She nodded coolly at Tavington and left him to his own devices.

_He should not have come at all, if he is going to be like this all night long!_

She danced several dances with the young men who asked her, until Tavington came forward to request a dance. An excellent dancer, he moved fluidly, though he did not seem to take joy in it.

"You do not like to dance, do you?"

"I find it tolerable."

"Tell me truthfully, did you only ask me to keep other partners away?"

"I wished to spend time with my lover," his voice was terse. "Rather than stand by and watch you with so many different men."

"So many different men, good Lord. You really should ask some of the other women to dance with you, Colonel. You are being very impolite and stand offish. A Gentleman of your good breeding, it surprises me that you would watch from the side rather than ask other women to dance."

Tavington, his expression disdainful, did not deign to respond. She shook her head and continued to go through the motions of the dance.

She sighed when his caressing fingers lingered on hers, and when he placed his hand on the small of her back.

They faced one another again and he gazed at her longingly. He bent his head to her long neck for a brief moment before drawing back, without laying his lips on her skin.

"This is torture, I cannot even kiss you!" Tavington growled quietly when the dance had finished. "Can we go some place to be alone, now?"

"No." She said firmly. "Lord, you are so exasperating this evening! We will have plenty of time later. You are trying to keep other men from me, and it simply will not do."

Fury flared across his face but he had no choice but to let her go when yet another man came forward to ask her. MacIntyre, this time.

"Margaret," Mr. Peter Chambers, Margaret's cousin, came forward as MacIntyre led her away when their set came to an end. "Will you accompany me outside? I wish to speak to you in private."

"Of course, cousin," smiling politely at MacIntyre, she thanked him for the dance and took her cousins arm.

She caught Tavington's gaze and he watched stiffly as she made her way outside into the fire lit night with Peter.

The cousins walked past other couples, also walking quietly through the extensive grounds, enjoying the warmth of the evening.

"Colonel Tavington seems to regard you highly, if the talk is true." He murmured quietly.

_The gossips have wasted no time_...

"An interrogation?" Margaret smiled. "And here I thought we were taking a simple, pleasant stroll."

"Do you share his regard? You do know how Wilkins feels for you."

"Yes, I do know…" Her reply was tart, her argument with Claire still too fresh. "I am not sure how I feel, cousin, it's been so confusing lately. I care for James, I do. But when I am with Tavington…" She paused, unsure how to continue.

"Let me make it easier for you, then, Margaret." Peter said somewhat sharply. She glanced at her cousin, surprised at the venom in his voice. He took a deep breath and softened his tone.

"Margie, you know he was billeted in my home before he moved to yours?"

She nodded, eyes wide with apprehension.

"This is not an easy thing for me to confide, but…" Peter looked around; to be sure no one else was listening.

Margaret glanced around also, and she spied Tavington standing on the long verandah watching them. She could see him clearly, though they were out of earshot.

"Margie – he bedded my wife!"

Margaret turned back to her cousin, her eyes wide with shock.

"What?" she breathed.

"It's true. I suspected, but on his last night in the house Katie had love bruises all over her neck and breasts. I knew one of the Dragoons had done it, and I had suspected it was Tavington. I asked the servants and they told me the truth, they had seen Katie with Tavington – alone in his room. They had seen the evidence of their love making on his bed sheets! When I confronted her, she admitted it. She committed _adultery_ with that man and now she is with child! We won't know if it is mine or his until it is born, and then it will be depending on WHEN it's born – and what it looks like and... Lord, he _rogered_ my wife!"

Margaret caught Tavington's gaze again. Breathing heavily, she stared at him, her stomach in turmoil. He stood tall, his body ramrod straight, one arm looped behind his back, he stared back at her.

Clearly, he was well aware of what her cousin was telling her – she could see it in his tense stance and frosty expression.

"Cousin." Margaret said quietly, her eyes still locked on Tavington's. "Take me home. Now."


	18. Chapter 18 - Infidelities

Peter led Margaret through the extensive grounds, managing to avoid acquaintances and friends alike. Finally he was helping her into his carriage and the two were away, heading back to Margaret's home on Tradd Street.

"He probably won't be far behind," Margaret said quietly. "Several Dragoons rode to the ball, I wonder if he will take one of their horses - he may be home before I am."

"You think he will follow you home? Margie, why don't you tell me what is happening with the two of you?"

She shrugged listlessly. "Nothing, now. Nothing, ever again."

His eyes widened with shock. "Margie - tell me you have not... bedded him?"

"Of course not!" Margaret snapped, then softened her tone. "No, I have not, but... Oh, Peter. I love him. I'm so stupid, but there it is! I am desperately in love with him."

"You _LOVE_ him?" Peter asked, astonished.

She nodded and drew a deep breath. "Lord, I don't know what is wrong with me. I love him, I can't help it. James... poor James is waiting for me, he will propose again soon, and what should I tell him? I can't marry him when I love another man! I care for James, I do... Oh, what am I to do?"

"Think!" Peter snapped. He continued in a softer tone though he felt like shaking her. "You are an intelligent young woman, you have a very keen mind – I urge you to use it now. Cousin – I married for love, and look where that got me! My wife, unfaithful, bedding the man you claim to be in love with. Lord, I should challenge him to a duel!"

"NO! He is an excellent fighter, a soldier! He would kill you!"

"This is a matter of honor, Margaret," Peter bristled at his cousin's assumption that he would lose. "Besides, duelists these days don't aim to kill. Though there have been accidents," he said the last thoughtfully and Margaret shuddered.

"Are you going to put her aside – divorce her?" She said after a short silence.

"How can I? Lord, the shame it will bring... No, I will set her aside, as soon as the baby is born. If the baby is mine, then I will keep my child with me. If it's his, she can take it and good riddance."

"Do you have any clue yet? How far along is she?"

"A few months, so she says. Katie thinks she must have already been with child before she bedded Tavington, she is starting to show already and so I am inclined to believe her. However, Tavington may not have been her only lover."

"Did you ask her?"

"Of course, she says she was faithful before the Colonel came to quarter with us, but how can I ever know for certain? I want her gone, Margie. I can barely stand to look at her."

Margaret sighed. "What a tangle."

"Certainly. And poor, stupid Betsy..." Peter shook his head. "Katie was not the only one to receive the Colonel's attentions. Betsy, walking around with her bottom lip dragging on the ground... I asked her what was wrong and she broke down in tears. She had enjoyed having the Green Dragoons in our residence a little too much, she had relations with both Lieutenant Evans and Colonel Tavington as well -"

"No!" Margaret gasped. "Oh, God!" Finally tears, hot and searing, burned her eyes as they began to fall down her cheeks. "God..." Her body shook and she was dimly aware of her cousin placing a comforting arm across her shoulders, his free hand taking hold of hers.

"There, there," Peter kissed the top of her head and drew her close to him. "There, there. You see, though? Margie, don't you? This man is not good for you. He will move on when the army does and you will never see him again. Don't reject James, I implore you."

"I won't," Margaret gasped between sobs. "If I do, William will still leave and I will be alone - James will not wait for me, not a second time."

"It shows the measure of the man, Margie, that he was willing to wait this long. I know you've had many suitors, you will not lack for choice, but you must see that James is the best of them. His wealth, combined with yours. His family connections, combined with ours - darling, you must see it."

"I do see it."

"And love may come, he certainly loves you and I know you care for him. Forget Tavington, Margie. Have him removed from your home as you did that Major Brendon. Or, if you trust that he will be a Gentleman, leave him to quarter in your home and come and live with me in mine."

"With Katie?" Margaret spat. "No, it is my home, I will not leave it. I will not have him removed, either - they are leaving for the Santee again soon enough.

"It is your decision of course, though I do not think you should remain there with him."

"Don't worry, cousin. I know the measure of Tavington now. I wonder how many other women he has seduced to his bed over the four years he has been in the Colonies. Just think, in all the homes he has been quartered..." Margaret shook her head sadly, images of women across the Americas seduced by the Colonel, crying into their pillows after he leaves them. "I'm just another in a long line of seductions..."

"Though you have not... No - I won't ask again, I believe you."

"I am a virgin still, cousin. And I will be on my wedding day."

"Good. Well, here we are. Do you want me to walk you in? I can wait in case he does show here soon -"

"No, cousin. I will retire for the evening right away, I will not see him until tomorrow."

"Perhaps you should stay with me -"

"Again, no," Margaret said sharply. "I will slap Katie and her maid both if I see them tonight. No, I have to face William sometime - though not tonight."

"Very well. Betsy is no longer there, by the way. I will not have her bedding men in my home - I told her to pack her bags and have sent her on her way."

"Wise of you," Margaret nodded as she wiped her tear stained face. She held her cousins gaze for several long moments, before hugging him tightly. "Thank you for telling me this, I know how hard it must have been," she said quietly against his shoulder.

"I only wish I had told you sooner."

"Me too. Good night, Peter," Margaret kissed his cheek, then climbed out of the carriage with the help of Peter's footman.

"Good night, cousin."

She waved, then turned to her house, sighing deeply before making her way inside.

::::::::::::::

Maisy was waiting for her. "That was a short night! Oh, no – Miss Margaret… What's happened?"

"Nothing, Maisy, I have a head ache and needed to leave early, thats all."

Maisy nodded, she had seen her mistresses tears but it was not her place to question.

"Colonel Tavington is not here?" Margaret asked and Maisy shook her head. "Good. I need you to help me get ready for bed then the evening is yours - it is still early, perhaps you would like to visit with your grandmother? She's been expecting you."

"Thank you, Miss Margaret, but I will remain here tonight."

Margaret nodded and led the way to her bedchamber. Of course Maisy would not leave her mistress when she was so clearly distressed. She was loyal to her...

Wasn't she? A seed of doubt grew, it bloomed in her stomach, spread until she thought she may be sick. Sitting before the table, she studied Maisy's reflection in the little mirror as the maid worked behind her. She hummed softly, a comforting tune, as she unbound Margaret's hair. A pretty woman of some twenty-eight years. Brown hair, always pulled back under a cap. Her dresses where always plain and proper as was befitting for a Lady's maid. Large brown eyes, pale milky smooth skin. William likes smooth skin...

"Maisy, have you known Colonel Tavington's attentions?" Margaret burst out. Maisy froze and stared at her mistress through the mirror, her mouth dropped open with shock, her eyes wide with horror, she was struck momentarily dumb.

"_No_ Miss Margaret!" She breathed "How could you think it? I would never! Not with any man and certainly not with guests in this house! No -"

"I am sorry, Maisy," she turned in her seat to face the other woman. "I've had some disturbing news, it seems some of the Green Dragoons have been indulging... Never mind. I am sorry - I had to know. I believe you."

Maisy blew out a profoundly relieved sigh. She had been in service to Margaret for many years and was treated far better than other maids she knew. Bedding guests staying at the Putman residence was a sure fire way of losing her place - a fate she would never wish for.

"Maisy, I must ask you, has he tried to seduce you, has he made advances toward you? I will not hold you at fault."

"No, never. Not the Colonel. That Evans was a pest at first. I did not think he would take no for an answer and I was going to make a complaint, but he seems to have settled down."

"Evans!" Margaret frowned and tightened her lips. "You should have told me, right away! I thought he was falling in love with Mary, she certainly is with him!"

"Oh, it was in the very early days when the Green Dragoons had first moved in. Miss Mary visited here a few times after they were quartered here and come to think of it, he stopped after one of her many visits... I should thank her." Maisy smiled.

"What of the other maids, have they spoken of receiving attentions?"

"I do not think so - they would have spoken to me about it, I'm sure. Most of them have beaus already, two are engaged, did you know?"

"Yes, I knew. Perhaps I am worried for nothing."

"I will ask them, if you wish to know for certain."

"Yes, please do."

The two women fell silent and Maisy continued to work. Finally Margaret's hair was brushed until it shone and the maid helped her to undress and Margaret was ready for bed.

"Maisy, I am going to lock my door tonight, if you need to speak with me bring your key."

"Very well. I can have Jonah nearby, if you think you will need him -"

"No, that will not be necessary." She drew a deep breath and pulled back the covers on her bed.

"Oh, is that him?" Maisy darted to the window. "I heard a horse - yes, it's him."

Nerves shot through Margaret, she pressed her hands to her stomach and breathed deeply.

"Quickly, quickly," Margaret ushered Maisy out of the room. "Good night, I will see you in the morning."

"Good night." Maisy bobbed a curtsy and left the room.

Margaret quickly turned the key in its lock and then stood at the door, listening closely for any sound in the room beyond. It did not take long for Tavington to make his way through the house to her room, within minutes her door handle was being jiggled from the other side as he tried to come in.

"Darling?" His quiet call. "Come now, let me in, we must discuss this."

She leaned her head against the door and breathed raggedly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"Margie?" He knocked again, more persistently this time.

Then, "Margaret!" His tone commanding, every inch the Colonel. "Let me in at once!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and bent her head to the door, despairing. With a loud crack, Tavington punched the door on the other side and Margaret gasped, backing up several steps, expecting it to burst open any second...

"Sir," Jonah's voice, Maisy must have gone to summon him after all. "I think Miss Putman is sleeping."

"You know she is not!" Tavington growled coldly. "And I need to speak with her, now!"

"Be that as it may, Sir, Miss Putman clearly does not wish to speak to you. Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow, when you have both had a good night sleep?'

"How am I to sleep?" Tavington grated. "You know full well I share my bed with her!"

"Sir," Jonah replied, ever calm. "Give the mistress one night. Whatever this is about, I am certain it can be resolved in the morning. I implore you, return to your own room for this evening."

"Very well," he said finally, his voice composed.

Assuming he was gone, Margaret felt suddenly exhausted and drained, she stumbled to her bed and sat down with a heavy sigh.

Suddenly the balcony door burst open and Tavington stormed in to her bedchamber, his cold eyes pierced hers as he slammed the door shut behind him.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You just leave?" He strode forward to stand before her, his eyes blazing. "Just like that? You do not even wish to speak to me, to give me a chance to explain?"

"Explain what, how you rogered my cousin's wife? Oh," Margaret scoffed bitterly. "And lets not forget her _maid_!"

"Christ, Margaret - I did not even know you then! I had never met you -"

Margaret surged to her feet, her eyes blazing. "She's pregnant!"

Her shout stopped him in his tracks.

"Pregnant?" He asked quietly.

"Pregnant. Though you do not even know which woman I am referring to, do you? Seeing that you rogered them both."

"There is no need to be snide, Margaret."

"No? I wish I could tell you it was Betsy, truly. An unmarried woman, it would not be so bad. But no - William. My cousin's wife is pregnant and she does not know if you or her husband is the father. So please, go ahead and give me your excuses, of how it 'all happened before we knew each other'. My sister in law could be carrying your bastard!"

"Or some other man's bastard. I was not her only lover, of that I can assure you."

Margaret gasped. "How do you know this?" She breathed. Tavington however, tightened his lips - his expression vexed. He had said more than he should have.

"I just do."

"Well, be that as it may. You are still a candidate! You have destroyed my cousin's marriage! You are an adulterer!"

"You are being over dramatic, don't you think?" He hissed. "I am hardly the first man to take advantage of bounty when it's offered!"

"Don't be so flippant about this!" She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him, hard, though he barely moved.

"I've already asked her, but I want to hear it from you. Did you ever try your 'seductions' with Maisy?"

"No. I have not. I would not do that to you." His nose an inch from hers, his breath, hot bursts on her face. "None of your maids have had my attention. How could they? Why would I look at any other woman when you are at my side?" The words were loving, but his tone, oh so angry.

"And when I am not at your side?" She arched an eyebrow.

His eyes widened and he tightened his lips.

"Lord, there have been others," Margaret breathed. Her strength drained from her, she sat heavily on the edge of the bed. "Who?" A quiet whisper.

"No one! Just women who follow the army! They were nothing as well - tension relief before a battle! Why are you so angry about this?"

"I am angry because I am just another in a long line of seductions! You seem to have a fondness for bedding women whose houses you are quartered in!"

"That is not true, you mean more to me than that -"

Margaret had not finished however. She rose to stand before him again, her strength returned, her anger reignited.

"- There are probably broken hearts the length and breadth of the Colonies - you've been here for four years after all! How many bastards have you sired, William? How many?"

"This is madness! You are angry because I have not been chaste these last four years? I did not know you then!"

"But you admit to bedding women after you began sharing my room!"

"CAMP FOLLOWERS!" He bellowed. "They meant nothing! How can you be jealous of them - it is madness!"

"This from the man who spent the night in a jealous fury every time I _danced_ with another! This from the man who brooded for days after I spent an evening with one of my suitors! At least I didn't _lie_ with them! Perhaps I should lie with Wilkins -"

Tavington's face twisted with rage and Margaret cut off with a strangled gasp. He grabbed her and threw her to the bed, covering her body with his. Deranged, completely out of control, he snapped back his arm, his fist crashed toward her.

He angled the blow away from her at the last moment and it punched forcefully, but safely into the mattress, beside her head.

"Well," Margaret, breathing raggedly, held his gaze with hers. "Perhaps you understand now? If the mere suggestion of my bedding another can cause this reaction."

"The difference, sweet Margie, is that I care nothing for those women," almost nose to nose, Tavington glared down at her, his voice like ice. "Wilkins, however - has courted you for how many years? You've made it clear you care for him and he is certainly in love with you. I will never see those doxies again. Wilkins, however, wishes to _marry_ you."

"And I believe he is going to get that wish, William."

Tavington studied her for timeless moments, his expression unreadable. She watched as his eyes became hard, his face turned to stone. He nodded once, curtly.

"Very well," he said coldly. He pushed off her abruptly and stalked from her room, slamming her balcony door behind him.

She could not move, with her eyes squeezed shut and trying to get her ragged breathing under control, Margaret laid prone on the bed.

Suddenly an explosion boomed through the night, the windows shook from the force of it. She jumped off the bed and hastened out onto the balcony, finding the source of the noise instantly. One of the British battleships was on fire out in the harbor.

Tavington stormed from his bedchamber out onto the balcony, and after seeing the burning ship he let rip a stream of obscenities before rushing back inside. A few minutes later she saw him riding his horse in haste toward the Assembly Hall. Margaret stood on the balcony quietly watching the blaze.


	19. Chapter 19 - Beer and Rum Cider

A/N - sorry for the long chapter - the longest yet, ad over 5,000 words! There did not seem a natural place to split it, though...

::::::::::::::::

Chapter 19 - Beer and Rum Cider

"Come along Tavington, there is only one way to deal with this," Lieutenant Evans announced. "Cards, beer and..." Already moving toward the door, Evans threw over his shoulder, "willing women!"

"Yes, great idea," Bordon's voice dripped sarcasm. "Colonel Tavington can fix this by bedding more women. Don't listen to his advice, Sir."

"No," Tavington said slowly, rising to follow Evans. "I agree, I think that's an excellent idea. Are you coming, Bordon?"

Bordon sighed, and nodded. "Someone has to keep you two out of trouble."

They left Miss Putman's house and Bordon, feeling eyes on them, glanced over his shoulder and saw Miss Putman on her balcony watching them leave. Shortly later, the three Dragoons found a card game at a tavern filled with Redcoats and women of dubious character.

He agreed with the need to lift Tavington's spirits, the man had been in a fury since the night of the ball, both his argument with Miss Putman and the Ghost's attack on the supply ship weighed heavily on the Colonel's mind. He did not, however, agree with Evans technique.

"Tell it to us again, Evans!" A Redcoat officer called across the common room shortly after they arrived. The Officer had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. The rest of the soldiers quieted as a grinning Evans rose unsteadily to his feet, the beer making his movements clumsy. Bordon glanced at Tavington, who sat back in his chair, brooding in silence.

"Tell what to you again?" Evans called back, though Bordon suspected the Lieutenant knew full well which tale was being called for.

"The surrender of General Lee!" came the reply, as other Redcoats yelled agreement and smacked their hands on the table. Evans put his hands up for silence.

"Ah, yes, of course. General Lee! Well, it was early on in the war, back in the winter of '76, just before Christmas. Colonel William Harcourt ordered us to scout intelligence on Lee's movements in New Jersey. We tracked the old boy down to a house in Basking Ridge. It was late at night when Tavington here ordered us to quietly surround the house, and when we were all in place, we raised our pistols high and fired them into the air!

"The sounds exploded through the quiet winter night, the sound would have set bowels to loosening, I'm sure! Tavington called for Lee's surrender, but the man refused! I'm not sure how he thought he could escape, but in any case, he quickly changed his mind when our Tavington threatened to burn the house down!

"Lee was watching through the windows as Tavington himself came forward, with the first lit firebrand! Lee came scurrying out in a Hell of a rush, wearing his banyan, and little else!"

The Redcoats laughed appreciatively, some of them came forward to buy jugs of beer for the Dragoons. Bordon slapped Tavington on the back as he poured a beer, he had his Colonel to thank for the jugs being provided as Bordon himself had not been at Basking Ridge.

It had been the turning point in Tavington's career, he had distinguished himself in the raid that ended with the capture of General Lee.

Though to the Captain's dismay, not even this trip down memory lane and his fellow Redcoats praise could cheer the man.

"Ah, how I miss the Cocoa Tree Club, don't you, Tavington?" Evans was seated again, sipping at his beer. "The wine there... And the women!"

He glanced at a group of pretty girls, Bordon realized the 'ladies' where eyeing the three Dragoons appreciatively, most likely impressed with Evan's story. The Captain caught Evans flash his smile at the women, who smiled and began to make their way over.

"Hmm, we did have some good times," Tavington replied, drawing a card.

They settled in to drink beer, play and flirt with the women. Bordon did not know how many hours they sat there playing, all he knew was that Tavington was very quickly winning all of the Captain's coins.

The young women of dubious character watched the game, one rubbed Bordon's shoulders and neck as he played. Diana, he remembered her name through his beer haze. Another woman tried to hang off Tavington, but he shooed away.

The Captains gaze settled on Evans, who had a pretty young thing sitting on his lap. Bordon's eyes opened wide with surprise when he realised that the Lieutenant's hand was up under the girls skirts, moving slowly as he nuzzled her neck.

"Do you like that?" He murmured in the girls ear, and she nodded with a sigh.

Bordon jerked his eyes away, his member hardening instantly in his breeches. Unable to help himself, he stole another glance, Evans hand was still there, moving a little quicker now. The girl tried to keep the pleasure from showing on her face, but as her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted and she was mewling quietly, it was glaringly obvious.

"Evans!" Tavington snapped. "It's your turn."

The woman whimpered with disappointment when Evans bought his hand drew his hand away from her quim to pick up his cards. Bordon tried not to stare at the Lieutenant's glistening fingers. As soon as he took his turn, Evan's hand disappeared back under the table, up the woman's skirt, and she was again mewing with pleasure.

The Colonel rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, and again shooed away the pretty young woman who was trying to flirt with him.

Bordon was surprised, Tavington never passed up a young pretty silly enough to throw herself at him, but here he was, rejecting this one yet again. There had been several others earlier in the evening, each one eventually gave up and left, pouting. The Captain began to ponder the true depth of his Colonel's feelings for Miss Putman.

Then all thoughts of Tavington and Miss Putman disappeared, as Diana plonked herself in Bordon's lap.

"My friend Martha seems to be enjoying herself," she whispered in Bordon's ear. "Whatever is your friend doing to her under the table, do you think?" A sultry smile, both cheeky and seductive.

"Hmmm. I'm not sure, I think it might be something like this," Bordon slid his hand down Dianas leg, then back up under her skirts. Amazed at his own boldness, then again he had been drinking and he was achingly hard, after witnessing Evans ministrations.

Diana sighed and leaned forward to press her lips to Bordon's as his hand made its up over the garter holding her stockings. She parted her legs, and Bordon dipped his fingers higher, gliding them gently along her wetness.

He ignored Tavington, who threw his cards down in disgust and gathered all the money on the table, "Fine, you both forfeit." He snapped.

The girl, Diana, tilted her pelvis back and forth slowly, in time with Bordon's fingers. His tongue found hers and she gripped his neck and moaned against his mouth. Bordon's fingers found the woman's hard quim, and pressed it lightly, increasing pressure slowly.

She pulled her bodice down as far as she could, revealing the tops of her lovely breasts, Bordon lowered his lips to her the fleshy mounds as his fingers worked her harder and faster. Before long she began to moan and buck, her teeth nipping his neck gently.

"Oh God!" Diana groaned. She was incredibly moist; Bordon had trouble keeping his fingers pressed to her quim without slipping. It did not matter, not too much longer and Diana writhed and moaned, clearly at the height of her pleasure. She collapsed against him, breathing hard.

"Let's go for a walk, handsome Captain," she whispered. "I want to feel you inside me."

Bordon rose enthusiastically, he was aching for release. Evans laughed again, and rose with his lady to follow the other couple outside. Tavington, the Captain realized, was gone.

They turned into a quiet alley, and Bordon pressed Diana up against a wall.

"That's it Bordon," Evans encouraged, as his pretty turned around and bent forward in front of him, bracing her hands against the wall. Evans lifted her skirts and was inside her in a heartbeat, plunging in from behind.

Diana lifted her own skirts and she stood on her tip toes. Bordon, standing between her legs, bent his knees slightly and took hold of his erection to position it at her entrance. He slid his length inside her easily. They both moaned with satisfaction, as they began to rut right there against the wall.

Bordon's and Evans pleasure was heightened, watching each others women in the throws of their passion. Bordon plunged into Diana with abandon, eventually growling and spilling his seed. Evans lasted a lot longer, but Diana seemed well pleased, turning and kissing Bordon deeply with a lusty, satisfied smile.

Evans and Bordon stumbled back to Miss Puman's manor, singing bawdy songs the whole way. Bordon had sobered up a little, he had the presence of mind to make sure his superior was home safe and sound, he did not seek out his own bed until he saw Tavington, sprawled on his bed, naked and snoring loudly, thanks to the beer.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"How is Claire? I've not seen her for days." Margaret poured herself and Mary a goblet of apple cider and crossed the room to sit beside her friend on the chaise.

"Hmm, delicious. Oh - its sharp though, has it got rum in it?"

"A little - don't worry, one glass won't hurt."

"Just don't tell Papa," Mary giggled. "Yes... Claire. She is well, when was the last time you visited her? She complained that she has not seen you."

"If she had not been so vile last week I would have gone to see her before now." Margaret had a sip of her cider and twisted her lips. "That _is_ sharp. Delicious though!"

"It is. Oh, the ball - I had so much fun! Lieutenant Evans, he is such a dream Margie -"

"Hmm, yes, a dream."

Mary did not notice Margaret's disparaging tone. "Did you know he danced with me at least four times? And he has been to visit me at the house - Papa invited him to dine with us tomorrow night. It is so nice, having a suitor that father actually approves of for once. None of the others have measured up to father's exacting standards."

"And Lieutenant Evans measures up?"

After rogering Betsy the maid... Margaret was torn, Mary was one of her closest friends, it was her duty to tell the younger woman of Evans affair with Betsy - she would not think of him so highly then!

In her minds eye, she saw Mary - the happiest bride in South Carolina, marrying her British soldier. The vision changed and suddenly Mary was sitting on the chaise, her head buried in Margaret's lap as she cried over her husbands infidelity, he had bedded Mary's maid. Another vision, Mary screaming at Margaret for not warning her sooner, for letting her marry Evans, thus allowing her to make the biggest mistake of her life.

"Oh, yes," Mary's voice drew her back to the present. "Mamma likes him too, he spent so much time speaking with them at the ball," Mary sighed and sipped her cider with a silly grin on her face. "She thinks I've made a conquest."

"Truly? Do you believe he will propose then?"

"Perhaps..." She said carefully, still with the silly smile.

Now... Now would be the time to tell her friend - before it was too late. Evans would probably roger all of Mary's maids! She opened her mouth to speak the words but the excitable Mary got there first.

"Oh, I certainly hope he does Margie," she burst out. "I have quite fallen in love with him!"

"Love?" Margaret breathed.

"I know, it sounds silly, doesn't it? But I can't stop thinking about him, he comes to see me almost every day, he always brings me flowers -"

_William has never bought me flowers... _

"- and we sit for hours chatting. And look, he gave me this - isn't it pretty?" Mary held out her hand, displaying a lovely silver bracelet, intricately worked.

"It's beautiful!" Margaret touched the worked silver gently.

"And he held my hand when he came to see me yesterday. Oh, his fingers... so much larger, harder, stronger than mine. And so warm. I thought I would die! His eyes - he has such magnificent eyes. He is so handsome, tall, that blonde hair - I just want to run my fingers through it. I haven't of course. He is so... Oh, so... I love him, I do! I hope he proposes, Margie, for I don't know what I will do if he doesn't!"

A heavy weight settled on Margaret's chest, she squeezed her eyes shut against tears.

"I am so happy for you, Mary," she said sincerely, taking hold of her friends hand. She meant it, Mary was a lovely girl and deserved every happiness. To tell or not to tell?

No, she would not tell - Evans had not met Mary when he bedded Betsy, Margaret would be ruining her friends happiness for no damned good reason. She took a large drink of her cider instead.

"He hasn't proposed yet, Margie..." Mary smiled. "Though Mamma thinks he will. Does he ever..." She paused, suddenly shy. "...Speak about me?"

"Hmm," Margaret thought back on the conversations she had had with Evans, at the dinner table or sitting in the parlor. She had even gone on several walks with him, Bordon and Tavington. "Come to think of it, yes. He does speak of you, and often. I believe your mother is quite correct, Mary. I think Evans plans on proposing to you."

Mary squealed with joy and threw her arms around Margaret's shoulders.

"Lets celebrate - another cider?"

"Papa, will kill me! But... It is for a special occasion, isn't it?" Mary laughed brightly. "And it is ever so delicious. Yes please!"

Margaret walked back to the bureau to pour the rum cider, this time returning with the bottle. The two friends whiled away the afternoon, chatting and giggling like school girls. Eventually they finished the bottle and Margaret fetched a new one.

:::::::

"Oh, I have some gossip for you," Mary's eyes seemed glazed, she swayed in her seat beside Margaret. "He told me not to tell, but I simply must!"

"Tell what? Oh, no - I should not encourage you. If you were told to keep a confidence, you should keep it," Margaret nodded decisively and the room seemed to tilt. She was having difficulty speaking, her words slightly slurred. "Oh, hang that - what's the gossip?"

Mary giggled uncontrollably, Margaret soon joined her - the two Ladies fell back against the chaise, giggling and trying to recover themselves.

"It was Lord Cornwallis - at the ball!" Mary gasped and wiped a tear. "I saw him - with Mrs. Simms!"

"Mrs. Simms - what ever do you mean?" Another gulp of cider.

"I saw them.. I - Oh, I forgot, you are close to Mrs. Simms - because of Alexander and... Perhaps I should not tell -"

"You will tell me this moment!" Margaret's eyes nearly popped from her head - the very idea that Mary would dangle gossip before her, so tantalizing, and then snatch it away, and not tell her? Especially about the woman who would have been her mother in law.

"All right, all right!" Mary waved her arm in a placating gesture. She lowered her voice, a conspiratorial whisper. "Shh, you must not tell. And don't you dare say it can't be true for I saw it with my own eyes."

"Saw _what_ with your own eyes!?" Margaret's demanding tone made Mary giggle again.

"Wait," she whispered and rose from the chaise. She walked unsteadily to the door of the parlor to make certain no one was near enough to hear, before dropping down beside Margaret on the chaise. "It happened at the ball the other night. It was well before that awful explosion - my word, I could not believe that happened! A ship, blown up right in the harbor by rebels! We are not safe in our _beds_, if they can get so close to us unseen!"

Mary took a sip of her cider, her glass was already almost empty again. Margaret filled it, and her own as well.

"I needed some fresh air, I stepped out onto the balcony - you know, near the library?"

Margaret nodded impatiently.

"I heard a noise, a shuffle and I went to investigate and, oh, Margie - you would never guess it! Lord Cornwallis and Mrs. Simms! They were... Well, you know!" Her voice dropped to an even quieter whisper. "Coupling! Right there on the balcony. She was bent forward, gripping the railing, her skirts around her waist, and Cornwallis stood behind her with his breeches down around his ankles!"

Margaret placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

"He had his hands on her waist and was... bucking... back and forth, you should have seen his face - all twisted up! And the _noises_ they were making! I've never heard anything like it! Moaning and pressing against each other wildly. I was too shocked to move, though my mind was screaming to run! And then they both shuddered and sighed, he collapsed on her back and that was when he saw me!"

"Oh my God!" Margaret's gasp was loud, almost a yell.

"I know! Mrs. Simms cried out and lowered her skirts, begging me not to tell. I nodded, what else could I do? I was too shocked. And then Lord Cornwallis came forward, after doing his breeches up of course, and I was ever so frightened, he is so imposing. But he was a gentleman, he begged me not to tell - I think he was as fearful as I! I managed to whisper a promise that I would not tell - Oh, I just broke my promise, didn't I?"

Mary's eyes where wide with consternation. She took another gulp of cider.

"Don't worry yourself, dearest. I won't tell a soul. Lord Cornwallis and Mrs. Simms!" Margaret began to rant. "They are BOTH married! What is the point of marrying at all, if people are just going to bed hop? Surely Mrs. Simms knows of the risk - she could be ruined! I never would have expected this from her! Tavington and Katie. Tavington and Katie's _maid_! Tavington and those camp followers. Mrs. Simms and Cornwallis! It is madness!"

"Tavington and _Katie_?" Mary squealed. "_When_?"

Margaret folded her arms over her chest and glowered. "I have some gossip for you too, but it must not go any further."

She waited until Mary gave her solemnest promise before telling her friend of Tavington's adulteress affair and his other liaisons. She carefully avoided mentioning Evans name.

"Margaret - you poor thing! I know you care for Colonel Tavington, how distressing!"

"It certainly was! But never fear - I am not entertaining his suit any longer," Suit... Margaret scoffed and drank down her cider. As if he was courting her... Where were her flowers? Where was her lovely silver bracelet?

Stupid girl, she chastised herself. Letting him into her bed, allowing herself to be seduced - he had not even tried to win her regard, she had simply given it all away! Almost all...

They could hear music through parlors open windows. Mary and Margaret went to see what was happening - a group of slaves, dressed impeccably, had set up in the Square across the road from the manor. The African men playing their instruments for all they were worth. Cheered by the music, the girls sat in the window seat, listening, tapping their feet and drinking their cider.

Another bottle was opened.

"Oh, Papa will kill me for sure!"

"Not if he doesn't find out! Stay here the night, in the guest room."

"Wonderful idea!"

Both women clapped and laughed, excited over the impromptu sleep over.

"Jonah!" Margaret called, hiding the bottles under the table before her butler arrived. "Can you get word to... To... Mr. Thompson!" Margaret was proud of herself for remembering her friends father's name. Mary fell against the window in gales of laughter, the cider effecting them both. Margaret tried to keep her voice from slurring. "Tell him Mary will be... Will be sleeping here..." She burped.

Jonah eyed them both with suspicion and concern but retreated to do as he was bid.

Mary reached over and retrieved the bottle from under the table, though she had some trouble aiming to pour it into the glasses. She had such a look of concentration on her face, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, and it was Margaret's turn to fall against the window with laughter.

"Oh, and that ship that exploded? It held all of Cornwallis' personal belongings, his fine clothes, his memoirs, if what I hear is correct! All his clothes and.. Well, everything!"

"Just punishment!" another burp. "A powerful man... loosing his wardrobe!" Margaret slurred.

_Why isn't Mary slurring as much as I am? _Margaret wondered as she held her glass up to the light to gaze at the lovely golden hue of the apple cider.

Mary may not have been slurring as much, she showed the effects of the cider in different ways. Both women were giggling, but while Margaret slurred, Mary found it difficult to pour wine or to sit still without swaying. Their cheeks were flushed red - even their eyes were red.

The bottle was finished when the Green Dragoons began to return from the Assembly Hall. Evans was first to walk into the parlor, followed by Bordon and Tavington. Mary and Margaret fell silent, hands in their laps, wearing _such_ a look of innocence.

After a few moments, Margaret rose unsteadily to fetch the fourth and last bottle of cider. With a cheeky smile, Evans stole her seat to sit beside Mary in the window.

The room was tilting first this way, then that as she attempted to cross the room - Margaret might as well have been on a rocking ship! She stood still, holding the unopened bottle of cider, in an effort to hid her drunkenness, and Evans whispered, "you can disguise it better if you're sitting down."

Margaret nodded, impressed with his genius, his most intelligent advice, and dropped bodily into a chair with a grunt, her arms limp at her sides. Clutching her stomach, Mary laughed aloud at Margaret's indelicate and unladylike seating, and Margaret threw a pillow at her.

"Oh dear," Bordon murmured as he sat across from them. Evans grinned broadly and gazed at Mary through lowered lids. Mary blushed.

_He is always smiling! How can he always be so happy? And oh look, William is scowling. Again. _

Margaret laughed all the harder, and so did Mary though she could not know Margaret's thoughts.

Tavington spied the empty bottles under the table and he growled under his breath with disgust as he scooped them up. He sniffed at one and shook his head.

"Rum," he muttered and placed the bottles on the bureau before reaching for the bottle in Margaret's hand as she tried to open it.

"No! We're drinking that!"

"I think you have had enough, Miss Putman." He said frostily. It was the first words they had exchanged in days.

"Oh, look, Mary, _Father's_ home!" Margaret said, setting off another round of giggles. Tavington froze, shooting a glare at Margaret, before putting the bottle with the empty ones on the sideboard.

A smiling, warmed, drunken Mary ran her fingers through Evans hair. "Oh, its so soft! Just like I thought it would be."

"Hmm," Evans sighed and took hold of the hand stroking his hair. "Perhaps you and Miss Putman should go and lay down, have a rest."

"Excellent notion, Lieutenant," Tavington said in a commanding tone as he walked to the parlor door to call for Jonah.

"No, I think I would rather you kissed me," Mary melted against Evans, her face turned up expectantly.

"Get her away from that window now, Evans," The Colonel said sharply. Lord, such a display - anyone from the street would be able to see! He stormed over to the windows, checking up the street both ways - thankfully, all the people he could see where turned toward the African musicians as they played in the Square.

By then, Evans had settled Mary on a chaise deeper in the room, holding her as she swayed.

"You promised me a kiss," she murmured and rested her head on his shoulder.

"One day, darling. But not today..." He sighed regretfully and settled for a chaste kiss on the top of her head before exchanging a concerned glance with Tavington.

"Jonah!" Tavington bellowed and Margaret bristled - how dare he order her servants so!

"I do not know what your problem is, Sir," she said frostily - it was an effort to keep her voice steady. "You were all _so_ drunk last night, I'm surprised any of you made it up the stairs to your rooms! What was that bawdy song you were singing? Perhaps you could sing it to us now, hmm?"

Tavington's eyes widened, he turned his glare on Bordon and Evans. "Bawdy song?" His voice was cool and Bordon had the grace to blush as he shifted in his seat with discomfort.

"It went something like this, I believe," Margaret stumbled to her pianoforte, she had to squint to clear her vision, the keys where blurring into one continuous line of white and black. She began to tap at the keys, at least her singing voice did not slur.

_"A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing._  
_His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow._  
_When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling,_  
_And asked if to work in her forge he would go._

_Rum, rum, rum. Rum, rum, rum._

_"In and out. In and out. Ho!_

_"I will," said the smith, and they went off together,_  
_Along to the young damsel's forge they did go._  
_They stripped to go to it, 'twas hot work and hot weather._  
_They kindled a fire and she soon made him blow."_

"Enough, Margaret!" Tavington strode forward briskly and grabbed her wrist before she could continue on to the next verse. "It is not a song for Ladies!"

"Oh, I found it quite educational, myself. But then, you've been an excellent instructor, haven't you, William? Teaching me so many wonderful things -"

"SILENCE!" He bellowed, his face inches from hers. He struggled to control his temper, finally continuing in a quieter tone as Jonah came into the room. "That is enough, Margaret. No more!"

"Is something amiss, Sir?" the butler enquired.

"Amiss?" Tavington snapped, rounding on Jonah. "You could say that. Have Miss Putman and Miss Thompson eaten anything today? Did you know they were sitting in here _drinking_?"

"No Sir!" Jonah looked with shock at the two women - Margaret, swaying in her seat before the pianoforte, her eyes red and face flushed from drinking. Mary, as she tried to climb into Evans lap. "Well, I did, but I thought they were only enjoying a couple glasses of cider!"

"A couple glasses? Three bottles! This is unacceptable, Jonah, fetch Maisy at once, I have a few words for her as well -"

"You dare!" Margaret surged to her feet and began to shout, waggling a finger at the Colonel. "Don't you chastise my butler, Colonel William Tavington, or my maid! This is _my_ home and if I decide to have some cider, no one will tell me not to! Who do you think you are?" She leaned forward suddenly, one hand on her stomach, one pressed to her forehead. "Ohhhhh, I don't feel to good."

"Christ!" Tavington was back at her side in an instant, he scooped her up in his arms. "Quickly, Bordon, she is going to be sick."

Bordon darted ahead of him, opening the little doors of the sideboard and pulling out a chamber pot. Tavington lowered her gently to the floor and Margaret, on all fours was bent over the pot.

Bringing up all cider was no where near as much fun as drinking it had been. Maisy was at her side, stroking her hair, and she could feel Tavington's hand on her back while she retched until her stomach hurt. When she finished she could hear Mary retching as well, and when she turned to look she saw it was Evans looking after her friend.

Margaret closed her eyes, then snapped them open again. "Oh, the room, why is it moving!" She tried to stand but her legs would not obey her. "Stupid legs," she muttered.

"Jonah! Get them something to eat now, and then we will put them to bed." Jonah nodded and moved off hastily to carry out Tavington's command.

"This is my house!" She protested weakly. "You've no right. Ordering _my_ servants."

"Hush, Margie," Tavington said quietly, one hand on her arm, the other around her waist, supporting her to stand.

Margaret had to admit she did feel better after she had eaten, but the room was still moving when she tried to walk. She caught Tavington shaking his head, but he came over and picked her up again to carry her upstairs to her room. Maisy followed, and undressed her mistress as best she could, with Tavington in the room standing guard.

"I will sleep with her, Sir, I've heard about people choking when they are this far into their cups."

"No, Maisy, you will need to take care of Miss Thompson, for that very reason. I will stay with Miss Putman, there is no one else to look after Miss Thompson."

Maisy reluctantly agreed and quietly left the room.

Tavington climbed into the bed and pulled a very drunk, very sorry for herself Margaret into his arms. She said nothing, just lay with her head on his chest as he stroked her hair gently. She could not sleep for many hours as the room spun sickeningly every time she closed her eyes. She knew Tavington was awake the whole time, because he never stopped his caressing of her hair. Finally, hours later, Margaret fell asleep.

:::::::

Authors note - the bawdy song was called "The Lusty Young Smith". I do not know who wrote it...


	20. Chapter 20 - Home Truths

**Chapter 20 - Home Truths**

"How are you feeling this morning?" Tavington asked Margaret.

The light of morning streamed through the windows though the two of them were still in bed. Tavington lay on his back, his head pillowed on one arm. Margaret lay curled on her side with her back to him. She had pulled away almost as soon as she had woken.

Her head pounded and her whole body shivered. There was a vile taste in her mouth.

"I've never been better," she murmured and Tavington scoffed.

"Mary thinks Evans is going to propose to her," her voice was muffled against her pillow.

"I think she is probably right."

"I have to tell her what he did, laying with Betsy -"

"Don't you bloody dare!" Tavington flared up, he grabbed Margaret by the arm, forced her to face him. "Do you want to destroy your friend's happiness?"

"Her maids would not be safe from his attentions! He will be unfaithful to Mary!"

"Now you listen here, Margaret," the Colonel's voice was low, threatening. "I have known Stephen for a very long time, most of my life, in fact. He has fallen deeply in love with Miss Thompson and he will be faithful to her. Don't you dare spoil this for them, just because you are in a snit!"

"A snit?" Margaret sat beside him. "A snit?" Her voice rose an octave or three. "How dare you? You are a lecher - you ruined my cousin's marriage and you accuse me of being in a snit? No, Sir, I am in a _rage_!"

Tavington curled his lip and climbed out of the bed. He dressed quickly, pulling on his buckskin breeches, then jerking his white ruffled shirt over his head, snapping it down his torso.

"She ruined her own marriage," he said finally as he drew his Redcoat around his shoulders. "She came to _me_! Was I expected to turn her away?"

"Yes, _William_!" Margaret yelled up at him. "That is exactly what you should have done! You were billeted in their home! You broke my cousin's trust! He is talking about putting her aside; keeping the child away from her if it's his – leaving her to her own devices if it is not! Will you take care of the child, if it's not Peter's?

"All this for few nights of gratification. Because you can't control yourself! What sort of life is she going to have now, without her husband's protection, in the middle of a war? What about my cousin, who has to live with the shame? Everyone will know what she did to him! You cuckolded him! And you – what punishment do you get? None!"

"You think so, hmm? None. I think you have punished me quite well, you've not spoken to me in days!" Tavington stormed above her. "And you are an angel are you?" His voice was cruel, he knew his next words would hurt her, but he had been pushed too far to care. "What of Wilkins? How many weeks have I spent, sleeping in this bed here with you, and you have allowed Wilkins to continue to court you, all the while? Margaret Putman, you are a hypocrite."

Her face blanched, Tavington knew he had scored a hit and he pushed his advantage ruthlessly.

"Tell me, sweet Margie, when he proposes to you, will you tell him of our affair before, or after you are married?"

"Get. Out."

"Will you tell him the details? Hmm? How you sigh when I kiss you, squirm when I touch you?"

"GET OUT!"

He grabbed her arms and pulled her close, their heavy breaths mingling. "Will you tell him, my sweet darling, that you are in love with me? Will he wed you, knowing that?"

Panting heavily, she wrenched out of his grasp. "I am not in love with you!"

"Christ, you deceive yourself. We both know that you are. Will you tell him? Hmm? Or will you keep up the lie until your dying day? Will you think of me, when he is rutting atop of you -"

Her full arm slap twisted his face to the side, he had not even seen it coming.

"I want you out of this room, now, or I will have you removed from my home." Her words, delivered slowly, deliberately. She meant every one of them.

His cheek stung like fire but he forced his voice to remain cool, in control. "Ah, but I am not finished, my 'perfect angel who can do no wrong'. We still have your friend Mary to discuss yet. What, do you think, will Mr. Thompson say when he discovers you got his daughter _drunk_? Christ, woman – what the hell were you thinking?"

"I never meant for that to happen! We were only enjoying a couple glasses of cider -"

"Three _bottles_! And you were starting on your fourth when I came in!"

Margaret took several deep breaths and turned her face away, shamed.

"She is younger than you, Margaret! You are supposed to set a good example, you are not only her companion, you are her chaperone and you got her drunk! How do you think she is faring this morning? Do you think she's 'never been better' also? What will this do to that young girls reputation? She was demanding he kiss her and trying to climb into his lap, for Christ's sake!"

"She loves him -"

"She is a Lady, whose only chaperone got her drunk, and was too drunk herself to take care of her! Drunk, and in a house filled to the rafters with Dragoons! If this gets out, her reputation will be destroyed!"

"Maisy slept with her, she will vouch for Mary's virtue -"

"Your maid? Who everyone knows is loyal to you. There will always be talk, even when she grows old and has a brood of grandchildren at her feet, she will be spoken about in hushed whispers! You are a Lady! What where you thinking?"

"We are hardly the first young women to have a few drinks!"

"Yes, there were some women last night in the tavern, they had had a few drinks too – lifted their skirts easily for – "

Margaret's eyes grew wide and she raised her hand to slap him again. He grabbed her arm before the blow could land. Ignoring his iron grip on her wrist, she hissed, "more women? Is there nothing more to you, than your need to _rut_?"

"Not me, you stupid woman!" Tavington growled, "You did not let me finish! It was for -" he paused, and quickly changed what he had been about to say. He could not tell her that one of the women had bedded Evans. "Other Redcoats at the tavern. My point is, Margaret, that _they_ are the type of women who get drunk in the middle of the afternoon, light skirts – not young Ladies of fine breeding like you and Miss Thompson!"

Margaret took several deep breaths and turned her face away, deeply shamed. Visions rose in her minds eye, visions of a much older Mary walking along the street, having to suffer sniggers - he was absolutely right. Even if they told everyone the truth, that Maisy guarded Mary throughout the night, people would gossip behind her back because of all the Dragoons quartered in Margaret's house.

"We all do things we regret, Margaret." Tavington said quietly, releasing her wrist.

Her head was pounding, now really was not a good time for an argument, she realized belatedly.

"As for my affair with Mrs. Chambers and my dalliance with Betsy..." Tavington shook his head and scoffed quietly. He cupped her chin with his hands and leaned in close, almost brushing his lips against hers. "You are angry, not because your cousin was cuckolded, not because his wife has fallen pregnant. You are angry because you are _jealous_, sweet Margaret. You are in love with me, and - you - are - jealous."

"I want you gone from this house," a quiet response, if he had not been standing so close, he would not have heard her. "Gone, do you understand? Find another place to billet, another woman to seduce. We are through, I - want - you - gone."

"No."

Breathing heavily, almost panting. "I will go to Sir Clinton -"

"And tell him I forced you? What reason will you give?"

"You are a bastard. Those camp whores - you were staying with me, in this house, in my bed, when you went off on campaign and took them to your bed!"

"You are clutching at straws darling. It is time to admit defeat. You are not an angel - you got your friend drunk, possibly destroying her reputation. You have been sleeping with me for weeks, though you planned to marry Wilkins all the while."

He dropped his hands from her face and turned for the door. He turned back to Margaret for one final parting shot, feeling every bit the traitor. "You should ask Wilkins, when he proposes to you, if he has kept himself chaste all these years. Ask him about the little black haired doxy - I believe she was rather clever with her mouth."

Margaret's lips tightened but Tavington closed the door behind him before she could utter a word.

_Poorly done, _he chastised himself, _very poorly done_. Betraying one of his own men, to win an argument. Betraying Wilkins, just so that Tavington alone did not have to suffer for bedding those doxies, when her other lover had bedded them also.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Margaret and Mary had collapsed on the couches in little parlor, very subdued and feeling sorry for themselves.

After Tavington had left her, delivering his final shot, Margaret had crawled back into bed and wept, utterly confused, shamed and heartbroken but Maisy would not allow her mistress to lay about all day - what if she had visitors come to call? No, it simply would not do. She had forced Margaret to get out of bed, to sit still before her table while Maisy did her hair and then forced her to dress and go downstairs.

Wilkins and Tavington both bedding doxies while on campaign... Tavington using her love for him as a brutal tool to win an argument.

"He was quite right, though..." she said quietly.

"Oh, Margie, you've done nothing wrong!" Mary's voice was quiet also, neither women able to speak above a whisper.

"I've been kissing William for weeks, Mary," and done other things that Margaret would not confide to her friend just now. "Every opportunity I've had to be with him, I grab with both hands. I forget James even exists when I'm in William's embrace. I've fallen in love with him, knowing that James will propose to me."

"Darling, you can't help that you've fallen in love with Tavington, anymore than I could help falling in love with Evans."

"No. But I did not have to dally with him. And to get angry over Katie and Betsy? He was right there too, I was jealous - my sister in law has had more from my lover than I have had."

"A good thing too - you will marry James, Margie. You may be in love with another but at least your virtue is intact, you have done nothing wrong."

_Panting with anticipation to see William's heavy erection freed when she pulled down his breeches. Kneeling before him, tracing the ridges and veins of his member lovingly with her tongue while he wrapped his fingers through her hair. William panting with need, whispering instructions as she took his length into her mouth and sucked gently, then more insistently, her head bobbing up and down, both moaning with built up tension and pleasure until William arched his back and his seed shot along his length in thick ropes that she devoured. The ache between her legs, her begging, pleading for him to relieve her._

"No, I've done nothing wrong," Margaret moaned and covered her eyes with her arm, trying and failing to push the flood of memories away. She had done it so many times since he taught her upon returning to Charles Town. She had twisted her fingers through his hair and cried out each time he did it to her.

But at least her virtue was still intact. Margaret laughed bitterly. Yes, surely James will not mind, not one little bit.

"Doxies..."

"Oh, think nothing of it! My father has spoken of it often - not that he knew I was listening... When he was campaigning with your brother in law, Mr. Martin - that whole Fort Wilderness thing, what a horror! Father took women to his blankets every time his unit returned to camp. Mother knew of it all along, and look at them, they love each other dearly."

"Would you be so complacent if you discovered Evans had taken a doxy to his blankets at Camden?"

Mary lurched up wide eyed. "Did he? Do you know -"

"No, no! I'm sorry, Mary, I merely meant 'what if'. I nothing for certain. But look at you, the very idea has you worried... You see what I mean now, don't you?"

"I suppose..." She lay back down again. "I wouldn't want some camp follower to steal Evans heart..."

"William told me, while we were arguing this morning, that Evans is in love with you."

"Oh, my God," Mary smiled brightly, warmth flooding her body, her face flushed. "Please, Margie, did he truly say that?"

"He did."

"Ohhh," Mary sighed and smiled, her pounding head almost forgotten.

"A note came this morning, your father said you can stay here for the day because he has business to attend to. You will have the entire day to convalesce."

"Good," still that silly smile and a deeply contented sigh. "Its best he does not see me so... Ill."

"Hmm..." They fell silent, lost in their thoughts.

Margaret could hear the Dragoons beyond the little parlor - it was her private room, they knew not to enter. Especially this morning, she had already snapped at Evans for being too loud.

_"Is your head hurting a little this morning, Miss Putman?' He had smirked knowingly. "I will try and be a little quieter, if you wish."_

_"I do wish!" Margaret had snapped, instantly regretting it as her own words pierced her skull. She glared balefully at the smiling Evans. "Have I ever told you how much I thoroughly dislike you? You smile entirely too much!"_

_"Now, now, let's not say anything we'll regret, I know how highly you regard me!" He quipped, and then bowed with a flourish._

_"Leave her be, Evans." Tavington commanded from behind Margaret, she had not known he was there. Gathering her dignity, she had turned and walked from both men and entered her little parlor, slamming the door behind her._

_"Ouch!" Mary had moaned in protest._

_"Oh, I know…" Margaret had put her hand to her head and sighed, wishing she had not slammed the door._

::

"Mary," Margaret said now. "I am so sorry; I should have stopped at one cider. It's my fault, I am older and I should have been more responsible."

Mary snorted. "You are _two years_ older, and unmarried. Now, if this happened at Claire's perhaps she could be blamed, but no. I chose to drink the cider, and I was having the most wonderful time! Well, that is until…"

Margaret nodded, until all the cider came back up again and the room began spinning.

"What a waste of such fine cider. I am no better than that Major Brendon. Still, I am ever so sorry, Mary – what will your father say? What will everyone say?"

"How will anyone even know? And if they do find out we were drinking, we can put it about that it was only one bottle, and we hadn't eaten and it affected us because we are not used to it. Who is to say else wise? Your servants are loyal to you, they won't breathe a word. And the Dragoons? I can't imagine them gossiping about us."

Margaret began to feel reassured, her guilt faded.

"I think I need some air... Mary, do you want to go for a walk?"

"Are you joking?" Mary scoffed. "No, I will lay here for the entire day until my father comes to get me later, you go ahead..."

Margaret nodded and rose gingerly, she grabbed her cape and slipped out of the house unnoticed. It was nice, the fresh air - being in the darkened parlor had not helped her head at all.

She began to regret not bringing Maisy along with her, being alone with her thoughts was not an enjoyable experience at all. The Square was a nice place to be, however, with its trees and the paths winding through the grass.

Too late, she saw her cousin Katie Chambers walking toward her.

Margaret stopped with shock, it was the first time she had seen her cousin since learning of her affair with Tavington. Gathering her dignity, holding her head high, she took a deliberate turn down a path taking herself away from Katie. She heard the other woman's in drawn hiss of offense, heard her footfalls quickly catching up.

"So, my husband told you then, did he?" She snapped, grabbing Margaret's arm and turning her to face her. "Tell me, how is Colonel Tavington? Are you bedding him - surely he would have seduced you by now, as well? He seemed to like bedding, very much!"

"I am sure I do not know what you mean," Margaret replied haughtily. Spying a group of ladies heading toward them, she continued in a quieter tone. "Mrs. Chambers, you are going to make a scene."

"I do not care. I am with child, and my husband is threatening to set me aside! My only hope is that it comes early -"

"Oh, Katie, he is going to set you aside either way!" Margaret shook her head. "He will keep the baby, if he believes it belongs to him. But you, he will not keep!"

Katie stared at Margaret with shock bordering on hysteria, obviously she had not been told.

"It is no less than you deserve, Katie. Having affairs, and in your husband's home! Its despicable! You should be thankful he is letting you stay in the house during your 'confinement'!"

"Oh, I should be _grateful_? None of this would have happened if I had married Alexander!"

"What the Devil are you talking about! You and Alexander? My Alexander!"

"Your Alexander," the other woman spat. "He was mine first! But then you seduced him, you turned his head away from me! He stopped courting me, though I know he was about to propose, I just know it!"

"How do you know it? Did he tell you? Lord, I never heard of any of this! No - you foolish woman, I do not believe you."

"Its true!" Katie shot a glance at the other women, who had slowed to a dawdle in order to hear the argument. Spying an acquaintance, Katie pounced on the poor woman. "You! Mrs. Marshal! You know the truth - tell her!"

"Oh, for the Lords sake," Margaret rolled her eyes. "Sarah, don't worry - you don't have to -"

"I'm sorry, Margaret, but... Well, it is true," Mrs. Marshall said quietly, reluctantly. My brother Michael and Alexander were good friends... And..."

"See?" Katie said triumphantly, rounding on Margaret again.

"Be that as it may," she said coolly, holding her composure by a hair. "It makes no difference. He fell in love with me, he proposed to me, we were engaged to be married. I did not steal him from you."

"We had an understanding! He may not have proposed but I loved him, I gave myself to him!"

"So?" Margaret laughed though her head was spinning. "Why would you be surprised his head would be turned so easily then? Why buy the cow when you have had its milk for free?"

Katie hissed and raised her hand to slap her but the taller and stronger Margaret gripped her wrist, much the same as Tavington had gripped hers earlier that morning. She took a menacing step toward the smaller woman and Katie took a frightened step back.

"Don't you ever strike me, Katie. I will tie you in a knot and drop you in the harbor!"

One of the other women tittered and Katie shot her an embarrassed glance.

"I can't believe how far back your dalliances go," Margaret said coldly. "My poor cousin, did he know you weren't a virgin when you married him? What a harlot you are."

"Harlot?" Katie screeched. "Yes, I am such a harlot. Alexander, Tavington, Evans, to name a few of my lovers... Your cousin's bedding left a lot to be desired!"

"Evans?" Margaret breathed. "You bedded Evans?"

"Oh, yes... Your little friend has set her sights on him, hasn't she? You can tell her from me he is exceptional. Almost as good as Tavington."

Margaret's vision blurred, her face twisted with rage - she did not even realise she had slapped the other woman until she heard gasps coming from the other women and Katie stumbled back several steps.

The babe...

"Katie - I'm sorry, are you all right?" She was not sorry at all, not for hitting Katie, but she would wish no harm to the baby - an innocent.

"Oh, I am fine, dear," Katie spat. "Perfectly. What were talking about? Oh, yes... My whoring ways... Yes - Evans and Tavington, very fine..." She smiled maliciously, while rubbing the bright handprint on her cheek. "But neither of them could compare to my greatest conquest of all."

All of the women stared at Katie, none able to move - not even Margaret, Katie had woven a spell over them all.

"It is as I told Colonel Tavington, during our last night together... I've had the last laugh _Margie_," she said the pet name tauntingly. "I had my revenge for your theft of my Alexander."

"No," Margaret breathed, but she knew what the other woman was about to tell her.

"Oh yes... Wilkins... He was easily the best lover of them all. You truly should accept his proposal when he asks you, _Margie_, you'll be missing out, if you don't."

Breathing heavily, Margaret stared at Katie, unable to to draw her eyes away even now.

"Mrs. Chambers!" Claire Mason was suddenly between them, "what in the world? Stop this at once, try to remember you are a lady!"

"Too late for that, I'm afraid," one of Mrs. Marshall's companions tittered and some of the other ladies laughed.

Margaret ignored them all.

"When?" She asked. Best to get all the information first - if it was after her fall out with James, after the Assembly Meeting... So much had followed, she had become engaged to Alexander, who had passed away. She had spent the next two years spurning suitors until finally allowing Wilkins to court her again. She could hardly have expected James to be chaste during that time.

Katie's smile grew - it twisted her pretty face, making her seem ugly. "During the siege, sweet Margie, when we all stayed at your house."

"Oh my Lord, your baby might belong to James..." Claire whispered.

"Your lying," Margaret breathed, her hands where shaking, her knees felt weak.

"You know I'm not. Mr. James Wilkins... Though I suppose I should call him Captain now. That would have sounded so much finer, when he was riding me -"

"Madam! Have you no self respect! Silence yourself at once!" Claire exclaimed as the other women gasped with shock.

"Shameful woman!" One of them spat.

"Disgusting," another agreed.

"Adulteress!"

Margaret spoke up, silencing the other women, who waited with bated breath to hear her words.

"You will no longer be welcome amongst your peerage here in Charles Town," she informed the other woman coldly, composed once more. "News of your 'exploits' will be rife through town before the day is through. But never fear, I've recently heard stories about men, soldiers, taking camp followers to their beds. Doxies - bedding for coin. You could find an occupation well suited to you in camp, Katie, you'd probably teach those doxies a thing or two."

"Bitch!"

"Its a good thing we are at war, you could make quite a nice little income." Margaret's parting shot.

Mrs. Marshall's companions tittered again.


	21. Chapter 21 - Evans and Mary

**Chapter 21 - Evans and Mary**

"Lieutenant, can I speak with you in private please?" Margaret ignored Tavington's eyes on her as Evans rose from the chair, startled by Margret's request.

"Of course, Miss Putman," for once he did not quip or joke, for Margaret was grave indeed, her tone dead serious. He followed her as she led the way to the dining hall, which was empty for the moment. She rounded on him almost at once.

"I had a chance encounter with my despicable cousin just now, in the park. Katie Chambers. She says you bedded her, while you were quartered in her home," she explained without preamble.

Evans paled, it was all the confirmation she needed.

"Dear Lord." Margaret sighed and put her hand to her aching head. "What a tangle. Too many people heard our discussion, Evans! Mary will learn of this!"

"Shit. Agh _shit_!" Evans prowled around the dining room, pacing back and forth. Margaret watched him, surprised - she had never seen him this agitated before - he was normally all smiles and laughs. "What should I do? Miss Putman, I love Mary. Tell me what to do!"

Margaret raised an eyebrow coolly. He was asking for her advice? She had not expected that.

Very well.

"Tell her," she said decisively, folding her arms over her chest.

"What? I can't tell her! She -"

"Should hear it from you," she cut him short. "It would be for the best. She is in the parlor now, better done quickly. Lieutenant, she will hear of it eventually, either way. It happened before the two of you met, perhaps she will understand."

"_You_ didn't!' He accused, he began to pace as his panic rose. "You have not spoken to William in days! Lord, what if Mary becomes as angry with me as you did with William?"

"Yes, well..." Margaret had the grace to blush and she lowered her arms to her sides, no longer confronting. "Mary and I are different people, Lieutenant. Besides, perhaps I was a little hasty..." She lowered her eyes and thought of Wilkins, whose betrayal seemed far worse than William's. Katie had happened before she had met Tavington and as for the camp doxy... Well... With a heavy sigh, she continued, "at least William was not courting me at the time. At least it did not happen here, _in my own home._.."

Evans lifted a questioning eyebrow but Margaret waved her comment away, exasperated with herself for saying too much.

"Go, now, Sir. Speak with her, tell her you love her, that you would never be unfaithful to her," with narrowed eyes, she leaned in threateningly. "You never would be, would you?"

"No!" Evans's outrage was unfeigned. "I will be faithful!"

"Betsy the maid..." Margaret arched an eyebrow, making her misgivings clear.

"Oh, Christ," Evans muttered and ran a hand over his head. "You know about her as well?"

"Yes, but Mary will not hear of it from me. However, I promise you Evans, if you bed her maids after you are married to her I will belt you with a _stick_!"

"I wouldn't! On my honor, Miss Putman!" Evans said earnestly. Convincing Margaret, he knew, was as important as convincing Mary herself, for the two were close indeed and the older woman had much influence over Mary.

"Good..." Margaret held his stare, then became impatient. "Well, what are you waiting for? March soldier!"

"This is not a battle I wish to face," he whispered, then steeled his shoulders. "If you will excuse me..." He inclined his head.

"Certainly," exasperated again, she rolled her eyes and made shooing motions with her hands, ushering him out of the dining room. She walked beside him through the house and stood by him when he paused at the door to the little parlor.

"Lord, what do I say?" He closed his eyes, clearly nervous of what was to come. Margaret placed her hand on his arm.

"Lieutenant, just tell her, be honest with her," she said gently. "You have a past, a life before you met Mary. I do not think she will be angry - uncertain, yes. Concerned about the future, but... I think after the initial shock wears off, you'll find her understanding."

Evans nodded, and after a quick, deep breath, stepped into the little parlor.

Margaret, having no where else to go, went to the larger parlor which was usually occupied by Dragoons. Only Bordon and Tavington were there for the moment. The Colonel sat in an armchair, reading a broadsheet.

"Care to tell me what that was about?" Tavington demanded coolly, lifting his eyes from the news paper as she walked in.

"Care to mind your own business?" She said tartly, annoyed with his tone.

"Hmm, perhaps I should leave," Bordon, judging the unhappy couple were about to have a tiff, began to rise.

"Oh, Christ, sit down Captain!" Margaret snapped at Bordon, then rounded on the Colonel. "If you must know, William, I met Katie in the park. She decided to confess her sins, and announced for quite a few people to hear her, that she bedded Evans and... and several others." She stumbled - dear Lord, she had bedded James! In Margaret's home! She pushed the thought aside and continued. "You should know, Sir, that your name was mentioned."

"I guessed as much," Tavington drew a sharp breath and tightened his lips.

"When Lieutenant Evans asked my advice, I suggested that be the one to break the news to Mary, it would be far better coming from him. Charles Town is a small place, everyone will be speaking of it by this evening, mark my words. Evans has taken my advice and is in the little parlor speaking to Mary about it now."

"I see," Tavington murmured, his irritated expression shifting to one of approval.

Margaret flushed. Folding her arms over her chest, she turned from him to stand by the windows. It irritated her, that she could feel such enjoyment from his approval. She heard the rustle of his paper and assumed he had resumed reading, however after a few moment, he came to stand behind her, close enough to touch.

"That was well done, Margie." He whispered against her ear.

A quick in drawn breath, and Margaret squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden rush of tears. Why she should feel like weeping to hear his praise confused her, but the tears were there, hot and searing, threatening to fall.

She put it down to tiredness.

Tavington moved to stand at her side, and they stood before the windows for a long spell until Evans and Mary came in to the parlor, holding hands and smiling broadly.

"We have an announcement to make -" Evans began.

"Oh, my God, you _proposed_!" Margaret gasped, placing her hand over her mouth.

"Ah... Yes." The happy couple gazed at each other, smiling with joy.

"Congratulations," Tavington stepped forward and shook Evans' hand, slapped him on the back, as did Bordon. Mary slipped away to speak quietly with Margaret.

"He told you then?" Margaret whispered her question.

"Yes. I was not happy about it, I assure you. Katie Chambers! He also confessed to bedding camp doxies while on campaign, and he even bedded Katie's maid!" Mary drew a ragged breath. "But he told me he loves me and I do not doubt his sincerity. I realised that I do not care what came before, for I want to be married to him. It is not like I didn't _know_ he had been with other women before meeting me, though it was certainly hard hearing of them, and I did not realise there had been quite so many! Well, as long as he is faithful to me, I am willing to accept that he has a past and not let it interfere with our future."

"For what its worth," Margaret eyed Evans, across the room, accepting praise and jests both from his friends. "I think he will be. Congratulations, darling - I am so happy for you!"

"Me too," Mary giggled.

:::::::::::::::

"James, a word?" Mrs. Bethany Wilkins strode into her son's office, shutting the door quietly behind her. She turned back toward her son, her arms clasped before her as she considered him.

"Of course, Mamma," James rose from his desk and led his mother deeper into the room, sat across from her in the comfortable armchairs. He was becoming increasingly discomforted by her serious demeanor, her blue eyes gazing at him with chill disapproval. A grown man he might be, but even the hardiest of men realized they were nothing more than boys when faced with this expression from their mother. He resisted the urge to tell her _'I didn't do it!'_ What ever it might be. "Is something amiss mother?"

"I have had a visit from Mrs. Marshall. Her daughter in law was walking the paths in the Square a little while earlier, with some of her companions, when they came across Miss Putman and Mrs. Chambers, clearly having a very heated argument -"

Wilkins froze, a chill of dread creeping his spine. No, Katie would not have told, would she? The expression on his mothers face said it all.

Shit.

"Oh, James," Bethany dropped her head in her hands. "Dear Lord. How could you? Your friend's wife! You and Peter grew up together!"

Wilkins could only stare, stunned to silence.

"- not my idea of having grandchildren!"

"Grandchildren? What?" Wilkins realised his mother had been speaking but he had not heard a word.

"Katie is _pregnant_, she does not know who the father is. You might be, for all she knows. Peter is going to have a conniption when he discovers this! That you bedded his wife! And what of Miss Putman?"

It was Wilkins turn to drop his head into his hands.

"Shit." He muttered. "A cart full of shit!"

"James!" Bethany snapped, outraged. "Please!"

"I'm sorry Mamma, but Christ! I've waited and waited, I love her so much! And now she probably won't accept me -"

"If you love her," Bethany cut her son off, "then why in Hades did you bed her cousin's wife, in Miss Putman's own home, no less! As if coupling with the woman was not unforgivable enough! Margaret will be right to feel betrayed, right to turn you away!"

"Mamma," James said desperately, a little boy to his mother. "What do I do?"

"Go to her. Beg forgiveness, for what it's worth. Lord, I'd hoped to have this settled between you, it was half the reason I left the plantation for Charles Town, and never mind that rot about it becoming too dangerous with this Ghost and his militia burning down Loyalist homes on the Santee! Miss Putman does not have her own mother to hurry her up, and with her sister, Mrs. Selton gone... Left to your own devices the two of you would never wed! I came here to give the two of you the encouragement you needed! But now? Oh, James, I'm afraid this is beyond even me."

"You think all is lost." It was not a question.

Tears welled in Bethany's eyes, her son.. He had made a grave mistake but he _was_ her son. "Yes," she said quietly. "I do."

"I have to try," James surged to his feet. "She has forgiven me before, for..." He left the rest unfinished. His mother raised an eyebrow but he gave her no explanation, as he did not the first time Margaret had become angered, and frightened, by him four years ago after the Assembly Meeting. "She has forgiven me before, perhaps she will again."

"It will be all over Charles town, by now," his mothers quiet tone stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to her, his handle on the door. "You had an affair with your friends wife, you may be the sire to her child. Your reputation as a Gentleman is at stake. Thank goodness we are at war."

"How so?" James asked, also quietly.

"It gives you a chance to distinguish yourself, as a Gentleman once more. And it gives our peers something else to gossip about, this Ghost for example. Perhaps they will be too busy focusing on news of the war to expend too much energy gossiping about you."

"Perhaps..." James nodded and stepped through the door, calling for his horse to be saddled.

::::::::::::::::

Margaret sat across from James, both of them distinctly discomforted, neither knowing what to say. James had no idea how to broach the subject, and so he spoke quietly about the journey to Charles Town.

"I would have come to see you earlier, of course, but I was helping Mamma and Sarah settle in - it was a hard journey for them, especially Sarah. You know how she is, she did not want to leave the Santee."

"Understandable, your sister has always loved living in the country more than Charles Town." Margaret's voice was perfectly polite but terribly cold and Wilkins stifled a grimace. He was used to a much warmer tone from her.

"Yes. Its not safe now though - that Ghost... He draws closer every day and his numbers are growing continually. I wouldn't be surprised to hear my house is burned to the ground, soon - Loyalists who have joined the military are being targeted you see."

"Hmm."

"Christ, Margaret," Wilkins muttered and scrubbed his hands through his hair, messing his queue. "I don't know what today. It meant nothing, she..." He trailed off and shook his head.

"Tell that to Peter," Margaret said, her tone ice now. "Somehow I do not believe be will be comforted by knowing 'it meant nothing."

"No, I don't think he will be, either. Margaret, I'm so sorry -"

"In my own home, James!" Margaret snapped. "Right here! Where did you do it? When? Did she simply snap her fingers and you came running?"

"No! Well... I can't..." Wilkins was at a loss for words. "It just happened," he muttered.

"You won't give me details?" She arched an eyebrow at him and he shook his head in the negative. "Revenge, she said, because I 'stole' Alex. I didn't even know he was courting her before we fell in love! She bedded him and expected him to propose, but he proposed to me instead. She bedded _you_ for vengeance!"

"So that's why..." Wilkins murmured. He did not elaborate to Margaret of course, but Katie had been chasing after Wilkins for months, trying to seduce him to her bed. He refused her at every turn but the night that the siege was lifted, after Margaret and Wilkins had enjoyed a wonderful encounter in her sitting room, James had been vulnerable. When Katie had come to him that evening, leaving Peter snoring in the bed she shared with him, Wilkins had not refused her.

She had laughed, afterward and Wilkins had thought at the time that her laugh had sounded malicious, gleeful, but he had been too replete to care overly much.

"She had planned this months ago," James said now. "She was trying to bed me for months. I continually refused her."

"So why did you stop?" Margaret said intently. "Refusing her."

"I've no answer. I'm a man. A stupid, idiot man."

"That, I agree with."

"I'm sorry. Margie - is there any way we can salvage this? Please, tell me, I'll do anything. I love you, so much!"

Margaret hesitated, thinking of her own betrayals. Weeks of them, as she whimpered and begged Tavington for more, and yearned for him while they were apart.

"What of the women in camp?" Margaret asked. "You really should be more discreet, you know I'm acquainted with half your own Loyalist militiamen and their wives."

Wilkins' eyes opened wide with horror, the blood drain from his face. It had not occurred to him that she could learn of _those_ indiscretions!

"Margie - I love you," James said, desperately now. He had already lost her once... He could not bear to lose her again. "It was a mistake, she meant nothing, the others meant nothing. I love you, and want to marry you. Please say you will still take me, despite my transgressions."

"If you can't be faithful to me while you are courting me, how do I know you will be once we are wed?"

_Hypocrite_. Margaret's eyes widened at her own voice accused her in the recesses of her mind. _You, Margaret Putman,_ _are_ _a hypocrite. Furthermore, if Tavington is still in Charles Town after you wed James, you would make every excuse you can find to continue to see him. You judge all these others for their adulteries, but could you be faithful to James, if Tavington comes to call?_

"I would be, I swear," James rushed to assure her. "Please, say you will forgive me, they meant nothing."

_Can you say the same? Tavington certainly means something to you. _Margaret sat frozen as her thoughts whirled, betraying her, making her see her own imperfections.

"Margie, I don't know what to say, how I can reassure you. I love you."

She sighed heavily with resignation, the time had come to admit her own failings. "James, you bedded her, a married woman, my cousin's wife, in my own home. You paid women to bed you while on campaign" she took a deep, steadying breath. "But I am not entirely innocent either."

"I beg your pardon?" James asked, suddenly aghast. "Margie, what are you saying?!"

_He thinks I am not a virgin._

"James, there is another. You've kept your secrets and I've kept mine. I have not bedded him," _not in that sense, at least,_ "but we have... done things together."

"What sort of things?" James asked in a harsh voice, lurching to his feet. He stood over her, his face full of rage. "Who is he? I thought you had given up all your suitors! Who is it!"

Margaret tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "Why should it matter James? _It was a mistake,_" her tone was ruthless, using his words against him. She rose from the couch, holding his gaze intently. _"He meant nothing!_" She spat.

_He means everything. Christ, he does._

"Who? What 'things' did you do with him?!" He asked, raising his voice - not quite shouting.

"What did you do with Katie, with the others? I am still a virgin, unlike you. But I did more than kiss him. Much more."

"You let him touch you?" James asked in a whisper. "Lord, he... Did he _pleasure_ you?"

"Yes."

They held each others stares, both tense with anger, both feeling more betrayed than the other. Then James nodded, and turned away.


	22. Chapter 22 - Wilkins Proposes

**Chapter 22 - Wilkins Proposes**

"That is it?" Margaret asked in a harsh tone. "You wanted _me_ to forgive _you_, to marry you even still. What you did was much worse! Bedding those women, one of them my own cousin's wife, in my own home and you still wanted me to forgive you and marry you! And you are just going to walk away? You will not take me, after learning of my '_transgression_'? You are a hypocrite!"

Y_es, Margaret, you are... _

Margaret froze as her thoughts still whirled, warring within her, confusing her. She tried to keep her her internal struggle from showing on her face as she began to argue within herself.

_No! I told James the truth. _

_Truth? You did not tell him you love Tavington... _

Wilkins was watching her speculatively, his eyes roamed her face, and Margaret could see he was conflicted, torn.

"You have done things with him, that you have never done with me," he accused her. "Except for that time in the parlor - you only _ever_ kiss me. Do you love me, Margaret?"

"I care for you, very deeply," she answered at once, as sincerely as she could. They had known each other too long, had been through too much, for her not care for him.

"You care for me, very deeply," he repeated in a flat voice, he arched an eyebrow, "and this other? I know you, Margaret and I can't imagine you would do anything with a man that 'means nothing' to you." He paused and braced himself before asking the question burning inside of him. "Do you love him?"

Margaret was silent for a long moment, trying to choose her words with caution.

"James, we should forgive each other," she replied, carefully avoiding his question. "We make a desirable match, and -"

"Do you love him!" He shouted, demanding she answer him.

"Yes," she admitted finally, reluctantly.

Breathing heavily, James turned from her to glare out the window, his body rigid with tension. Finally, he said stiffly, "you would be thinking of him while -"

"No, I would not!" Margaret gasped, the very idea outraged her. "I do care deeply for you James, which is more than I can say for most of the couples we know, whose marriage matches are made based purely on wealth and mutual advantage. I would think of _you,_ while we are... While we're..." Margaret blushed and trailed off in embarrassment.

James' fell silent, taking a moment to consider his options, to think it all through. He loved her - deeply, and had waited so very long. And she was quite correct - they were luckier than most couples whose marriages were arranged for their families mutual benefits. She was still a virgin, her virtue still intact. This other man though... James drew a ragged breath, detesting that someone else held her heart.

Could he live with knowing she was in love with someone else? That was the question he battled with now. She had promised she would be faithful - she would not think of him while having relations with James and he believed her. Besides, he was quite accomplished in bed himself, he had no doubt he could please her.

So. Could he live with knowing she was in love with another man. He imagined a marriage with her, shadowed by this other.

Then he imagined a life without her by his side at all. He would have to start again, find another amiable woman of quality from his peerage. An accomplished woman of wealth, when he had that already in Margaret.

No - he could not start again. Margaret cared for him, he could please her, and perhaps love would come. He could make her forget this other. Turning back to her, took her by her hands and met her gaze.

"Margaret, we need to settle this betwen us now. For once and for all," he said harshly. Try as he might, he was unable to keep the fury from his tone. Not the most romantic way to propose marriage, but then again, it was not his first proposal with this woman. "You know I love you, and I do know you care for me. We can make this work but I must know now, I can't keep doing this. Margaret - will you marry me?"

"I -" Margaret hesitated.

_Yes! Say yes!_ Margaret battled herself, she knew it was the best thing for her, for them both. Dear Lord, up until a moment ago, _she_ had been trying to convince _him_!

But Tavington... Margaret drew several panicked breaths. Christ, it was pure folly to worry about Tavington at a moment like this! This was her entire future! Tavington would only be in her life for a short while! Hell, he wasn't even in her life now, and if she was absolutely honest with herself, he probably never had been! He was a fling, nothing more. He would have no further need to billet in her residence soon for he would be based out on the Santee. His visits to Charles Town are bound to be few and far between and then the army would leave South Carolina altogether when it made its push for North Carolina! She should not be taking him into consideration right now, not when she was face with the possibility of _marriage_!

James watched her as she struggled with herself, his rage burning brighter by the moment.

"It was a simple question, Margaret," he hissed sharply, his eyes narrowed. "You seemed to be arguing for it just a moment ago! For Christ's sake, for once and for all, will - you - marry - me?"

_Say yes... Margaret say yes! James is your future, he is! _

Her mind screamed at her to say the words that would secure her future forevermore. But now that it came down to it... Lord... James was a good man, he was! But she couldn't do this to him, marry him and then spend the rest of her life wishing he was William.

She wanted William...

A darkness deep within her threatened to consume her, making it difficult for her to breathe. She placed her hand on the windowsill, fearing she might faint.

"I... James, I..." breathing heavily now, she trailed off, unable to finish, to say the words she knew would cause him tremendous pain.

James understood however, and his face twisted with despair. Drawing several deep breaths, he forced himself to gain his composure.

"James..." Margaret reached for his hand. "I'm so sorry."

He snatched his hand back before her fingers could touch his skin and she choked back a sob of grief. Ignoring her tears, James nodded curtly and turned on his heel to stride wordlessly from the room.

The crash of the front door slamming made her jump. To her, it was a great symbolic crash that spelled the ending of any future they might have had together.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"The damned Ghost," Tavington muttered and shook the broadsheet in his hands to straighten it out. "He is a hero to the rebels, you realise? They are flocking to his banner, and swelling his ranks and his already swollen reputation. We will have to track him down - put an end to -"

"William, for the Lord's sake," Bordon frowned. "Yes, he is out there and yes, we need to find him, put a stop to him. But your closest friend is getting married! Take a moment would you? Evans - for Christ's sake - is getting married! Out of the three of us, he's the last one I would have expected to get married!"

Tavington sighed heavily. "I am pleased for him, Bordon. And for Miss Thompson. But they are gone now to visit her family so that Evans can ask Mr. Robinson's blessing. And right here, in the broadsheets, I read headlines about the damned Ghost's latest exploits!"

"Duty is never far from your mind, is it?" Well, duty was never far from Bordon's, either, if the truth be told.

"You know it is not," Tavington tightened his lips. "Cornwallis is already putting the pressure on to have the rebel caught, it would be preferable to have a plan in place before our next meeting with his lordship. Which is tomorrow morning, so I suggest we start discussing it now!"

"Yes, Sir," Captain Bordon said, obediently albeit reluctantly. "You'll be pleased to know I have already put some thought to the problem and as we'll be back out on the Santee soon, I suggest we -"

Bordon cut off and Tavington glanced up as the parlor door opened.

He had encountered Mrs. Claire Mason in the hallway when she arrived a little earlier, he'd nodded in greeting as she disappeared into the little parlor with Margaret. He raised his eyebrows in question, wondering what her visit could portend

"Gentlemen, Miss Putman has an unexpected visitor, do you mind if I wait here while she speaks with him in private?" She asked calmly.

_Him?_ He thought to himself. She'd told him she had dissuaded all her suitors!

"Of course," William replied, trying to hid his mounting tension. He gestured imperiously toward a chair. "Who is visiting her?" He tried for a conversational tone.

"Captain James Wilkins," Claire informed him as she sat. Tavington froze, jealousy shooting through him, hot and piercing.

"Really," he said coldly. "Captain James Wilkins."

His mind began to work furiously. Wilkins and Margaret, alone, right now, in her little parlor. Stone faced and cold, Tavington fought to keep his jealousy down. Trying not to think about it was useless. They could be kissing, right now, he could be laying her down on the chaise where William himself had so often laid alongside her, kissing her, his hand dragging up her skirts to disappear between her legs -

His eyes widened with sudden understanding and with a curse, he lurched to his feet. Wilkins - he was there to propose! Why else would Margaret's friend need to give them privacy?

Tavington, his face set like stone, took on a confrontational stance as he stood over Claire. She gazed up at him with apprehension.

"Will she accept him?" He ground out. "I know that is why he is here!"

"Calm yourself, Colonel," Claire snapped, vexed with Tavington for intimidating her. Vexed with herself for allowing him to! "I don't know if she will accept him or not. He probably wishes to discuss Mrs. Chambers' revelations and yes, I imagine he will propose."

With a curt nod, Tavington strode past the woman and headed for the door.

"And just where do you think you are going, Sir?" Claire's fury filled voice lashed out like a whip. "If you think you are going to interrupt them, think again! They have much to discuss. You will stand here and be still until Miss Putman has been able to give her answer!"

Tavington scowled at the woman sitting so resolutely before him. "And if she accepts him? What then? Right now, at this very moment, she could be saying yes!"

"Then you shall be a Gentleman a congratulate her, and wish her well!" Claire snapped. She held his gaze, her expression stern. "It is her decision Colonel. If you wanted her, you should have proposed yourself."

Tavington lifted his chin haughtily and stood ramrod straight before her, trying to regain control of himself. She was right, he would not barge in on them and make an utter fool of himself.

"Come on, Colonel. Sit down, play some cards…" Bordon said quietly. "We will know, soon enough."

Tavington did not sit, he went to stand by the window, his arms folded behind his back, staring at the views with unseeing eyes.

The sound of raised and heated voices could be heard from the parlor, but Tavington could not make out the words. He exchanged concerned glances with Claire, but before he could move to intervene, the door to the little parlor opened. Tavington heard Wilkins storm up the corridor and then the front door slammed shut behind him. Then the door to the little parlor was slammed shut and Margaret was running through the house toward the stairs, crying.

"I believe we have our answer." Claire commented as she rose to her feet, straightened her skirts, and headed for the door, obviously to see to her friend.

Tavington stalled her.

"Allow me, if you would," he said, his expression and tone concerned. She hesitated initially but then with a nod she resumed her seat.

He strode quickly through the manor toward her room, suspecting that was where she had run to. He opened the door quietly and sure enough, Margaret lay across her bed, her head buried in the pillows. Great sobs racked her body as she cried unabashedly.

"Margie?" Tavington called softly. He sat beside her and stroked her back gently. Margaret froze beneath his touch, she kept her head buried in her pillows as she tried to stem the flow of tears. "What happened?" He asked her.

Margaret had assumed it was Claire when she heard her bed chamber door open. Dear Lord, Tavington was the last person she wanted to speak to right now!

The rubbing on her back was awfully calming, however. To feel his strong hands on her was... Bliss... Margaret sighed heavily.

"Margie, look at me," William said. "Speak to me."

"Is that a command, Colonel?" She sniffled into her pillow.

"Yes, it is." His lips twitched with a hint of a smile, his pale gaze fixed on the back of her head. "Come sit up," he took her by the shoulders to guide her until she was sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. Margaret stared at her hands in her lap, unwilling to meet Tavington's gaze even when he handed her a handkerchief. "Was it really so bad? I heard shouting."

"He bedded Katie as well," she confided in an exhausted voice.

"Ah..." Tavington's eyes widened. Of course, he had known that for some time now, but it still surprised him that Margaret had discovered it. "I see."

"Yes. I just found out today, when I went for my walk and saw Katie in the park. It happened here, in my home, during the siege."

"Hmm. Katie Chambers..." Tavington shook his head at his own folly. "I was a fool, to desire her."

Margaret stiffened and drew away from him, she did not like to hear him admit he had 'desired' Katie.

Tavington watched her calmly. "Did he propose?" He kept his voice level, free of the jealousy he felt writhe in his stomach.

_"If you wanted her, you should have proposed yourself." _He tightened his lips and pushed Claire's voice from his mind.

"I would have forgiven him, married him anyway..." Margaret said quietly. "As you pointed out, I've hardly been chaste."

Tavington tried not to snarl. Idiot! Stupid fool! He should have kept his mouth shut, not give fuel to her arguments!

"I told him that there has been someone else, though I didn't say who," Margaret seemed to forget it was Tavington himself she was addressing as she continued. "He is a good man! We have both made our mistakes, and we were ready to forgive each other. But when he asked, one final time, if I would marry him, I could not answer! I could not accept him, and all because of _you_! I am such a fool!"

She stopped speaking, her crying taking hold of her again. Tavington sat frozen, rooted to the spot.

_She rejected him because of me?_

Eventually her weeping subsided, and she started speaking again in a firmer, more decisive tone.

"I _am_ being a fool. I _will not_ refuse Wilkins -"

"Margaret!" Fury and no small amount of panic rifled through Tavington, making his voice harsh. He grabbed her arm as she rose from the bed but she shook him off her.

"No!" She hissed, all resolve and determination now. "I will beg him on bended knee if I have to -"

"Margaret!" Tavington surged to his feet as she strode away to straighten her skirts and her hair before the tall stand mirror.

"- I will go to him at once to apologize," she said to her reflection. "He must forgive me; I am sure he will still take me."

"Ridiculous!" William spat. "Don't you dare -"

"- We will be married and the sooner the better." Their eyes met in the mirror.

"The sooner the better?" He snapped, his eyes burning cold rage. "You would leave me -"

"I cannot live my life for you!" She rounded on him at once, hands on her hips, her stance challenging. "Leave _you_? _You_ will leave _me_ when you push for North Carolina! Dare you deny it?"

Tavington glared, face hard, breathing heavily.

"Besides!" Margaret spat incredulously, "why would you wish to stop me? You do not love me! This is my future - not some fling!"

"You think I don't love you?" Tavington asked harshly, he gripped her arm and gave her a rough shake. "That I thought of you as a 'fling'?!"

Margaret jerked back with a gasp and stared at him wide eyed, her already red face turned crimson.

"I know you don't!" She shot back. "You want me handy, until you leave me! But I have my future to consider and I will not allow you to get in the way of it!"

"You cannot marry Captain Wilkins!" Tavington roared loudly, and Margaret shrank back from him with a gasp.

"I cannot keep doing this!" She cried out. "I am twenty four years old – I should have been married years ago! Wilkins is a good man, he would make a good match -" She squeaked with fright when he stepped forward abruptly, his cold eyes bore into hers. Fright turned to indignation when he covered his hand over her mouth, silencing her. She glared at him over his hand.

"You cannot marry him!" Tavington roared again. He took several calming breathes, removed his hand and grasped her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. When he continued, it was in a more reasonable, calmer tone. "I am from a distinguished family, Margaret. When this war is over His Majesty King George will reward my efforts in this war. Ours will make as good a match as you and Wilkins! Probably even better!"

Margaret stood absolutely still, rooted to the spot.

"What are you saying, Colonel?" She asked quietly, finally finding her voice.

Tavington blew out a vexed breath, and then sighed deeply, finally giving in.

"I am saying, Margaret, that I cannot keep doing this either. I do not want to lose you; I want you to marry me."

The words were out, finally, it was said.

She swallowed hard; her hands trembled against his chest as she stared up at him for several moments.

"Well?" he snapped, impatiently.

Her eyes widened with shock which quickly shifted to anger.

"My previous proposal's have been far more romantic!" She snapped back.

Tavington stared at his bride to be, the woman he was about to become engaged to. He had no doubt she would accept him and become his wife.

_My wife. _He thought. _My wife is worthy of a little romance, she should be swept off her feet. _

He shocked her by lowering himself to one knee and taking her hands in his. They felt so smooth in his rough hands.

"Margaret Putman," _How do you propose to a woman?_ He wracked his brains, trying to think of loving and romantic things to say. He was also a soldier first and foremost and while he was favored by the ladies, he was unused to being _loving_. Flirtatious yes, while he was seducing a woman, but romantic? Never. He decided to keep it simple. "My beautiful Margie, would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?"

He watched her face as the anger drained away and she stared down at him with wonder.

"Truly? We will be married?" She asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes."

"Oh, William…" She fell to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, holding on tight.

"Is that a yes, Margie?" He asked gently.

"Yes, oh Hell _yes_!"

Tavington smiled; with his hand on the back of her head he kissed her thoroughly.

"My betrothed…" He said, with wonder.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"There will be a lot of people who will be unhappy about this… My cousin, Peter for one. James…" Margaret trailed off, worry marring her happy moment.

"We cannot live our lives for them, Margie. Will you refuse me now, because you are concerned about others?" Tavington caressed her face gently, knowing she would not.

Margaret squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then stepped forward into her fiancé's embrace. "No, of course I won't…"

He smiled warmly and caressed his lips over hers, "Then let us go and tell Bordon and Mrs. Mason. There will be some people who are happy about this, I assure you."

Tavington and Margaret walked through the house toward the parlor, hand in hand. Margaret stopped before entering, turning nervously to face William.

"So what do we do now – do we just... _tell_ them?"

"Of course. You do not want a secret engagement, do you?" He smiled with amusement.

"NO! Most assuredly not, but… How do we just _tell_ them?"

"You are the one who has been engaged before, not I!" Tavington laughed at her. "Come along, I will do it."

They entered the parlor, and there was Bordon and Claire, sitting patiently where Tavington had left them. He made the announcement without preamble.

"Miss Putman and I are engaged, we are getting married."

Such a simple thing to say, Margaret did not know what she reaction she was expecting from the others. Claire, trying to be dignified, came forward slowly, then she spoiled it by squealing with delight and throwing her arms around Margaret.

"It's about bloody time!" Bordon smirked, he came forward to slap Tavington on the back. "Congratulations, old friend."

"Two down, one to go," Tavington smiled, giving Bordon a significant look.

"One day, perhaps," the Captain murmured, then turned to Margaret to wish her every happiness.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_A/N - Sorry for the slow updates - as a lot of you know, I'm concentrating on finishing my other story, "Tavington and Lyra" for the moment, but I needed to take a break and Margaret was calling to me to hurry up and get her engaged to Tavington already!_

_LOL_

_If you are bearing with the story despite the slow updates, thank you! It won't be long and I'll work on the story more often - I have loads of ideas for it and the rough draft for future chapters is already written - this story has definitely not been abandoned._

_Please do tell me if there are any errors, I've revised and made lots of changes to this chapter. It's getting late though and I'm tired but I'm happy to go back and fix mistakes._

_:::_

_To 'Kimmy', thanks for your review! I'm pleased you are enjoying the characters as I've written them. I thought it would be fun to write Wilkins as young man who could still be bullied by his mother, hehe. However, I don't think Wilkins will get over Margaret's rejection any time soon... :-( Especially when he learns she's up and gotten engaged to Tavington, his superior... Tough times ahead for James. Poor thing, he doesn't deserve it. I'm an evil person. :-)_


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